


Rational

by sp00kygrrl



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kygrrl/pseuds/sp00kygrrl
Summary: When Harleen Quinzel happens upon the Joker and Batman fighting, she had every intention to run the other way. However, when she sees Batman beating him to a bloody pulp, she stops him instead. Now, she finds herself in an uncomfortable position. She's become his newest psychologist. Why has Joker not ratted her out about the assault of Gotham's hero? And why on earth did she help him in the first place?Joker/Harleen Quinzel. Nolan-verse. NO ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP. Toxic, but not abusive lol. The story of Harleen Quinzel's slow descent into madness.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 68
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

_Heels were probably a bad choice_ , I remembered thinking to myself, as every step on the now slick with blood floor made my feet less and less sure. _I should’ve worn something sensible, something at least functional,_ I thought as I tumbled down hard, landing on my elbows and knees directly into it. Everything stung as I lifted my head, attempting to see how far away I was from danger, only to meet the gaze of a barrel pointed directly between my eyes. 

My stomach lurched as panic and doom swelled within my chest. I’d read the stories about him, of course. Who hadn’t? The clown who started the riots, who had nearly succeeded in taking Gotham hostage. I saw the photos of his dingy, haphazardly dyed green hair, his moth-eaten pinstripe purple suit, the god awful scars. He’d been plenty frightening behind a camera lens. He’d been even more frightening as a patient. I had at least been comforted by the fact I knew then he was safely tucked away behind the glass (Read: _Had been_ ), but he’d still managed to _make me shiver_ . Nothing, however, could prepare me for the real thing. The real _flesh and blood thing_ , a mere foot away from me. 

We’d all taken comfort in his capture and entrapment in Arkham. We enjoyed _eight great_ , quiet years of _normalcy_ after Harvey Dent's death. But now, after Bane, there were many new enemies for us to fear. We’d almost forgotten about _him_ entirely. However, he was quite real now. And he was staring down at me, an unreadable expression across his painted features, as I heard the gun click.

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

**Gotham**

That night had gone just like so many before it, _well_ , for the _most_ part. I went to work at Arkham Asylum, went through the _mundane task_ of meeting patients, listening to their delusions, and then took the subway home. I was especially late tonight, however. I’d had a rather nasty blast from the past that day, one I’d been thinking on near constantly since. 

Before my job at Arkham, I had studied under a man named Dr. Jonathan Crane. He was doing research on different emotions and how they affect the human psyche. As a doctoral student studying psychiatry, this was especially appealing, and I’d even used the data to fuel my own research. Dr. Crane performed tests that involved several toxins that induced fear, an emotion he had been fixated upon. I had no idea, of course, that he'd eventually use the toxin to terrorize Gotham. Then, I was impressionable and naive. I just found it… _fascinating._ Now, Dr. Crane was our newest patient. 

I’d had a very candid meeting with the asylum’s director, Dr. Arkham, where he assured me we wouldn’t come in contact, that I should feel safe here. I had nearly snorted, finding it utterly hilarious that I was supposed to view the _asylum_ as a “safe” place. However, I’d been grateful that he’d at least stricken Crane from my client list. I sighed, as my attention flitted over to, unfortunately, a not too abnormal encounter on the train. Two men harassed a moderately attractive young woman, who looked reproachfully back at them. I was grateful in that instance that I looked the way I did. 

I was always told growing up I was _too_ intense, _too_ bossy, _“too”_ everything. I was told that I’d never find a husband with my current personality, but, in my opinion, all I needed was my work. It was fulfilling and useful _,_ and besides, it kept me _plenty_ busy. I didn’t really have time for much else. I found it funny to think it was these exact attributes that were perfect to render most patients I had into complacency. My attention turned away from them as the train came to a halt at my stop. I picked up my purse and headed out, sparing the girl and her pursuers not a second glance.

It was late, even for Gotham, and the streets were unusually empty. The night air was crisp and I could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance, as always. It was actually quite nice, well, for the _first few minutes_. After about ten minutes into my twenty-minute hike to my apartment, my phone vibrated, causing me to pause. Nobody ever texted me, well, besides my colleagues, so this was particularly odd. I pulled it out of my lab coat pocket, peering at it curiously. 

It wasn’t a text message like I had assumed, but instead some kind of alert. As my phone continued to shake, I read it;

“Emergency Alert: There has been a breakout at Arkham Asylum. Please use caution if you are in the area and seek shelter.”

My pulse thrummed rapidly. _A breakout? Who could have…?_ I wondered, still standing dumbly, just which patient it could’ve been. Judging by the fact there was an alert, I guessed, it was someone _big_ . I looked up at the sky then, seeing the unmistakable light coming from the top of the police station, signaling for the vigilante known as “Batman.” I sucked in air, realizing a _horrifying_ fact quite quickly; I had been in the train, with _no service_ , and the streets were _uncharacteristically empty._ It would be safe to deduce that this alert came to my phone _late._

I picked up my pace then, and as I rounded the corner, I saw it. The Batmobile, unmistakably. It raced down the street, it’s sleek black body nearly a blur, a semi following close behind. Horrified, I realized that it intended to ram the Batmobile. I stood directly in their way, frozen, as the Batmobile skidded to avoid me. The semi-connected with the car, finally, and an explosion erupted. I shielded myself with my hands, but fell directly onto my side, getting rained on in broken glass. My adrenaline pumping, my vision slowed down, allowing me to see the events unfold with some clearness.

My ears rang as I took in my surroundings. Batman, _to his credit_ , took all of three seconds to clamber out of the car and go see what was happening. The broken glass from the windows cut my skin and my ribs hurt something fierce, but fear provided a motivator that no pain could deter. A quick glance told me that the semi had run headfirst directly into the side of the Batmobile, causing enough force to halt it in its tracks. The semi lay forgotten, turned over on itself from the impact, one wheel still spinning.

I struggled to my feet and surveyed myself. I was scraped up pretty badly, but otherwise in working condition. As I made my move to get away, _I heard it_. The _blood-curdling cackle._ _The unmistakable laughter._ A kind of _curiosity_ took over me then as I whipped my head around in time to see _him_. There was _the Joker_ , _in all his glory_ , going fist to fist with _Batman_.

Joker had been a nearly catatonic patient when he’d first been admitted to Arkham, back when I was just a lowly intern. After the stunt he pulled and the bravado he’d possessed while doing it, I remembered feeling a bit _let down_ seeing him like _that_ . His case had intrigued me. _He’d_ intrigued me. He harbored no greed, no _tangible motive_ for the havoc he had caused. A _true_ agent of chaos.

Eight years had passed since he’d been admitted and Batman had disappeared. Eight years of different leading psychologists being led in to attempt to garner a response from him. However, they’d all come up _empty_ . He’d refused to speak with them, _hell_ , he’d refused to even _look_ at them. It was like looking at a breathing dead person. He’d been devoid of all life. I’d had many theories on why he’d gotten like that, _not that anybody there cared._

I believed that the Joker _needed_ Batman to exist. And I mean that quite _literally_ . That Batman was the yen to his yang, the force to his unstoppable object, the light to his dark... _so to speak._ And that when the Bat disappeared, so did the Joker. And now that the Batman had made a resurgence, if what I was looking at was any indicator, _I might’ve been right_.

It felt like a movie as I took it in, _completely_ transfixed. I watched as somehow, the Joker was able to overpower Batman. He lay prone on the floor as the Joker laughed again above him, seemingly enjoying every second of their sparring match, his hands wrapped around Batman’s neck. Batman lay _absolutely_ still. Horrified, I realized that Joker might’ve _actually_ killed him this time. I stepped back, attempting to get away, when my feet betrayed me and I took a hard fall.

I must’ve caught his attention then, because within a few seconds, he was on me like a hawk. He waltzed over with a strange kind of grace, stepping over me and crowding my space, and that’s when I could make out _the scars_ . They truly were _horrendous_ . They traveled from each corner of his mouth, but not in a nice clean line. A nasty, _jagged on_ e. The kind of _jagged_ that suggested whoever had done it _really_ wanted it to _hurt_.

I fixed him with the meanest, _coldest_ face I could muster. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to die a sniveling mess. Then, he gave me that _famous smile_ . It was impossibly wide, and _impossibly_ large. His mouth seemed to swallow up the rest of his face. He leaned in and I held his blue, _dead_ eyes as I felt him put the gun to my head.

I heard the click.

However, the gun never fired.

I searched his face, confusion washing over me when I realized I wasn’t currently _dead_. There was a newfound glint of curiosity in his eyes where the dullness was before.

“ _Hmm_.…”

He hummed to himself, seemingly in thought, then straightened up. I realized then that he did not plan on killing me any longer and exhaled in relief. He tossed the gun, as if he didn’t much need it, and waltzed back over to the Batman, a skip in his step. Batman for his part, still lay motionless.

“ _C’monnnnnn_ Batman. I left my _vacation_ for _this_ ...the least you could do is... _GET UP_!”

With that, he kicked him hard in the ribs. However, Batman quickly sprung into action. He grabbed his foot, and with a holler from the Joker, threw him back down on the ground, rolling over to gain the advantage. He began to repeatedly punch the Joker in the face with a brutality I hadn’t expected. And after a few moments of this, there was a sickeningly _wet sound_ to it. As he did, the Joker just kept on... _laughing_ . There was something disturbing about it to me. Not that the Joker was laughing, _though_ , that's what should have been disturbing about it, _but it was Batman._ Maybe it was because the Joker had spared me moments before, or maybe it was the shock, but every single punch made me…. _uncomfortable_.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stood on shaky feet, grabbing a piece of stray metal that had broken off from Batman’s car, a hefty piece. I struggled with its weight, but I forced myself to walk, half dragging it behind me. Batman still hadn’t noticed me. Then, without hesitation, I brought the metal down swiftly and harshly against Batman’s head. The effect was instant. One second he was beating the Joker to a bloody pulp and the next he was slumped over on top of him. _Amazingly_ , the Joker was still conscious.

For a few seconds, our eyes met, silence passing between us before he threw his head back, _and laughed_ . _A true howl of laughter_ , the kind he had to grab his sides for, despite his bloody face and injuries. I looked down at him in disgust, and the Joker, for his part, continued to _hoot and holler,_ seemingly unable to get up from the ground. I dropped the metal with a _clang_ , realizing what I had done. Hollowly, I began to walk away.

“ _You_ ...you’re, uh, a _funny one_ ...aren’t _ya_?”

I realized the Joker had stopped laughing, but was still laying on the ground. He had a grin on his scarred face that simultaneously mystified me and _made me want to throttle him._ I turned back to him, fixing him with a cold stare.

“I don’t give a _shit_ about if you find me ‘funny’, or not.”

The Joker kept smiling, offering me a half-hearted shrug, as if he didn’t really care what I thought. For some reason, this made me want to engage him more. I felt myself trying to explain why I’d just helped him, sounding childish, even to _myself_.

“I...I just didn’t want to _owe_ you for not _killing me_.”

It was the only thing I could offer in my defense. I didn’t even convince myself as I said it, wincing as it came out. Truthfully, I couldn’t really say _why_ I did it. I just... _couldn’t_ watch any longer. His smile broadened and it made me shiver, involuntarily.

“ _Ohhhhh_ , about _that_ ,...you see, there’s _no need_ to _thank me_ . Truth be told I, uh,...just _ran out of bullets._ ”

The Joker began cackling again. With that, anger radiated through my body, and god help me, but I gave him a swift kick in the ribs. I was surprised at myself, my face probably looked quite horrified. He gargled for a second, but then the hooting continued, like _nearly killing me_ was the _funniest thing he’d ever heard_ . Then, unceremoniously, he passed out. I gave him one last look, shocked at the entire situation, before limping past him, leaving him alone, to _hopefully die_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I returned to my apartment, nestled in the charming slums of  _ The Narrows _ , feeling hollow and numb. Fortunately, due to the status of the neighborhood, nobody spared me a second glance as I tried hard to hide my scuffs and bloodied clothes. I reached my door, opening it with shaking fingers. I immediately went to the bathroom, breathing heavily, as I looked in the mirror. Thankfully, I hadn’t sustained any real damage, only my legs were scraped and bruised. My honey blonde hair was disheveled, pulled from it’s usual tight bun at the base of my neck, hanging loosely with bits of hair to and fro. I finally let the horror of what I’d done hit me; I’d actually  _ assaulted _ the Batman. Someone the police force  _ looked up to _ , someone who was considered  _ our protector. _

I felt myself let out a hysterical laugh, a short one, almost a huff. I wondered anxiously if he’d seen me, gotten a good look. It wouldn’t be too difficult to identify me as someone who works at Arkham.  _ Hell _ , I had my ID on still. Panic swelled, but then the more rational, clinical side of me assured myself that it was unlikely. He’d been too focused on the Joker to even look at me. I took a shower, a long one, and then put myself to bed. All through the night I kept asking myself the same question. Why did I do that? Why did I help that  _ lunatic _ ?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with a single, rational reason.

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I returned to work that following Monday morning. Although I did the same things I’d always done before, somehow, it felt  _ different _ . I walked in, got my ID scanned, and reported to  Dr. Jeremiah Arkham’s office, the director of Arkham Asylum. I had received a call from Dr. Strange, the lead psychologist, that I was to report to Dr. Arkham’s office promptly upon arrival. I gave a short knock before opening the door to his office, finding him seated, awaiting me.

“Ah, Dr. Quinzel, please, do have a seat.”

I obliged, taking a seat across from him, noting the many different achievements he’d hung up on the wall behind him. He looked uncharacteristically nervous as he began again.

“I want to again congratulate you on your success here at Arkham.”

I felt some satisfaction as he forced the words of praise out of his mouth like they were putrid. However, the fact he was doing this at all, made me very suspicious of what was going to come next.

“Thank you, Dr. Arkham.”

I replied evenly. Dr. Arkham didn’t like me, never had. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that Arkham was too terrifying to garner much in the way of willing employee candidates, I seriously doubted I’d be working here now. Dr. Arkham had a seriously  _ warped _ perspective on the inmates we housed here. It was his belief that one day they could be  _ released back into society. _ I can’t stress enough how absurd that begins to sound when you have prisoners here the likes of Killer Croc. A literal  _ crocodile man _ whose one true pleasure was biting the heads off of his unsuspecting victims. 

“What I’m about to say next comes with some hesitancy, however, due to your... _ background _ , I believe that you can do much more than you are currently. Due to your  _ high levels of success _ , such as with Dr. Isley, I’ve decided to promote you.”

I was speechless, wondering how on Earth I had gotten to this point. I stared, dumbly at him, as he continued.

“I have given you clearance to work with all patients, including all of our  _ level fours. _ ”

I raised my eyebrow in shock. _Level four?_ I had only ever gotten to _two_ before. The way we classified criminals here went as follows;

Level One: Your regular run-of-the-mill crazies. Schizophrenics, severe bipolar, you get the drift.

Level Two: Our slightly more abnormal, much less dangerous patients, such as Dr. Isley. More well known, as “Poison Ivy.” A botanist who survived a murder attempt by her partner, who was then exposed to chemicals that made her able to control plant life. Later, she would terrorize Gotham as an eco-terrorist, threatening to “purify” it. It turned out Dr. Isley was relatively tame and had been a model patient during our sessions. I even was able to allow her the privilege of caring for our greenhouse. Heavily guarded, of course.

Level Three: This was reserved for big timers, diabolical, but if behind bars, quite harmless.The likes of Dead Shot, The Riddler, and even Scarecrow himself had found themselves here.

Level Four: This was for the baddest of the bad. The one’s beyond help. This housed Killer Croc, Mr. Freeze, Bane, and even... _ The Joker.  _

I remembered the Joker, then, and wondered casually if he had been brought back to the Asylum yet. Arkham continued.

“Although, I’d like to caution you, Dr.Quinzel. Your more...unconventional methods, like with Dr. Isley, will not be tolerated with our level four’s. If I so much as see any semblance of misconduct, I will pull the plug on this entirely.”

I raged on the inside, but remained impassive on the out. My “unconventional” methods meant going off the heavily scripted sub-set of questions provided by the establishment. The questions were too clinical. They may work with our level one’s, but with someone as complex as Ivy, that was never going to get us anywhere. It was only after I had smuggled a small succulent into Arkham that Ivy had decided she could open up to me. I had been thoroughly chewed out by Arkham, but my progress had been so undeniable, he’d let me off with a warning. He hoped Ivy could be the new poster child for his dream of reaccumulation of inmates to society. I  _ strongly _ begged to differ, but that was an entirely different issue. 

“Of course, Dr. Arkham.”

I lied. He eyed me suspiciously, but said nothing of my sincerity. He sighed deeply, clearly annoyed with having to meet with me.

“Very well, then. You are dismissed to your rounds. You’ll find your new, updated schedule in your box.”

“Certainly. Thank you.”

I said, my voice clipped as I walked out, letting my back press against the closed door for a second. I caught my breath, able to finally express my elation with my unforseen promotion. I took a moment to gather myself, before making my way towards the employee offices. As I did, I heard a noise that caused me to pause, and my heart to race.

“ _ Ohhhhh _ , I see you’ve kept the place  _ nice and tidy _ for my arrival. Miss me, boys?”

_ The Joker _ . My teeth clenched in annoyance as his voice echoed down the hallway. I could see him, smiling, tied to a garney, a straight jacket snugly wrapped around his body. He waited a moment for a response and when there was none, he continued. He’d directed his attention to a scarfaced man, a rather intimidating looking orderly.

“How about you, uh,  _ Frankie _ ? How’re the  _ wife and kids? _ ”

Frankie, to his credit, was having none of Joker’s smart mouth. In an instant, he brought down the back of his hand against Joker's face, with such force, that despite the various instruments holding him still, he still managed to shake to one side. 

“Shut it,  _ clown _ .”

Joker said nothing in response, just offering a wheezing fit of laughter. As he grew closer, I realized that I would be noticed. Quickly, I attempted to disappear behind the employee office’s doors, but it appeared I was too late. Our eyes met, his locking on mine with an intensity I couldn’t name. Murderous? Curiosity?  _ I wasn’t sure.  _ I watched his tongue come out, licking absentmindedly at his scars, the paint on his face mostly rubbed off, deep in thought. Then, I saw his face suddenly change, a smirk spreading from ear to ear, as he turned his attention back to Frankie. 

“ _ Realllyyyyy _ , I don’t mind  _ walking _ .”

Frankie reached over, not bothering to engage in any verbal sparring with the Joker, and opted to tighten his restraints to an uncomfortable degree. 

“Not so tight, you’ll, uh,  _ crease the suit _ .”

He finally reached me now, and I could see him, as pathetic as he looked. He looked nothing like he had when I saw him last. All the bravado and grace stripped, leaving only a disfigured man in a clown suit. I stood, frozen, as he continued to prattle on.

“Look at all this  _ new security _ . How’s, uh, a guy supposed to break out of here?”

Frankie hit him again, but it didn’t stop him in the least.

“Aw  _ c’mon _ . I thought we were _ friends _ , Frankie. If we keep meeting like this, I’ll uh….start to think of it as _ fate _ .”

He cackled, and turned to meet my gaze as he said the last sentence, one eyebrow wiggling upwards in what was usually a comical fashion. However, it was anything  _ but _ . The look he gave me seemed to say  _ “I know exactly who you are, but for some reason unknown to you, I don’t plan on ratting you out just yet. And I’m not going to tell you why. Na-na na-na boo...booo” _ I fumed with anger and fear as I watched him get carried to the elevator shaft that would, undoubtedly, carry him to the deep underground confinement on level four of Arkham Asylum.

I exhaled as he finally disappeared from my sight and remembered my initial reason for being in the hall. I opened the office with my keycard and headed straight for my box. Inside, just as Arkham had promised, was a very thick schedule of patients and detailed patient records. I flipped through them, making a mental list of who exactly I’d be working with.

Ivy,  _ no surprise there _ . Mad-Hatter, ugh, I’d grow tired of him quickly. An on-slaught of level one’s that included Falcone and Maroni aligned thugs, and….

_ The Joker. _

I stared at the printed name incredulously before I heard a voice to my right, which caused me to jump.

“So, they’ve given you the  _ clown _ , Quinzel?”

_ Dr. Hugo Strange. _ The man who I detested most in all of Arkham, and yes, that was including its patients. He was the chief psychologist here, as well as a complete and utter asshole. Since I’d come to Arkham, Strange had taken it upon himself to see that my life here was as miserable as humanly possible. He’d made sure that I never saw any patients worth anything. It was a surprise when Arkham had overruled him enough for me to gain Ivy, a fact that Strange had not forgotten. He’d been near murderous when he’d heard of my success. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in feigned distress. I narrowed my eyes.

“It seems he’s no longer catatonic. Did they ever tell you what he did to his other shrinks?”

I didn’t say anything, but this didn’t deter Strange from ripping the files from my hands. Before I could protest, he was rifling through them, then throwing it back at me. I caught it, glancing at the page he had opened. I felt my stomach sink, but I kept from showing any outward signs of panic. 

“A shame, isn’t it? I always wondered how he got out of the straight jacket. They say he can break his arms at will, or something. That’s why they decided to do all patient interviews behind glass now. It’s because of  _ this lunatic. _ ”

My hands were shaky as the words Strange was saying to me barely registered. Inside of the Jokers file, was a few graphic photographs of an Arkham employee. They looked as if a wild animal had chewed them up and spit them out half dead. Claw marks dug into their face as if it were putty, skin clinging to bits of other mangled flesh. There were bite marks too, clear indentations nearly down to the bone, decidedly  _ human bites _ . I must’ve looked dumb and speechless because Strange patted me a little too hard on the back, causing me to huff in alarm. He smirked, pushing his glasses a bit higher on his nose.

“But, you know….you  _ should _ be fine.  _ I think _ .”

Strange walked away as I worried my lip, rifling through Joker’s files, my eyes darting left and right. I had a whole  _ onslaught  _ of reasons on why treating the Joker was something I did not want to do. More notably, the fact that he had witnessed me  _ assault _ Batman and he had  _ zero reasons _ not to out me. And then I found it. Our scheduled first appointment. Exactly a week from today. 

_ Wonderful. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Arkham Asylum**

****⧫** **⧫** **⧫** **

I spent the week leading up to my first appointment with the Joker using all my spare time studying his previous sessions and files. Between that and the heftier than usual client load at Arkham, I was _ damn near _ exhausted come Sunday afternoon. However, I knew going into this blind would be a near death sentence. _ Perhaps a literal death sentence _ , I thought grimacing, remembering those pictures of the Arkham employee in his file. I stayed up until nearly three in the morning, files and video tapes littered my living room floor, a pen between my teeth as I gnawed on it in thought.

Joker’s file was, unsurprisingly, quite useless. Before he was known to the public, there’d been plenty of sessions. However, all of them were  _ fanciful lies _ . To his credit, he was able to keep them entertaining. By my account, there were at least twenty different stories on how he came to acquire his scars. There was a freak motorcycle accident, an abusive father, a vindictive ex wife, and a more  _ harrowing tale _ of the  _ self inflicted nature _ . All of which, were  _ clearly, _ untrue. I sighed watching them all, feeling very much like I was listening to some kind of fucked up choose-your-own-adventure novel that played on loop.

Joker was also the only name anyone could garner out of him. They’d emptied his pockets upon arrival, only to find rigged playing cards and lint. They’d talked to him until they were red in the face with irritation, he’d just laughed. They’d run his prints, and found there to be absolutely  _ nothing _ on him. I wasn’t sure how that was  _ even possible _ . For all intents and purposes, Joker  _ was truly _ his only name and only identity. 

The questions they asked him were always the same; What's your name? Where are you from? How’d you get those scars? It was  _ annoying _ , even to _ me.  _ I sighed again, letting my head slump a bit. He was an impossible patient. There simply wasn’t enough for me to go on. If I wanted to get anything out of the Joker, I needed to think outside of the box, but not enough so that Arkham would pull the plug. I worried my bottom lip as my time ran out, needing to sleep, I retreated to my bedroom, feeling a sense of doom loom over me.

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

As I approached the glass, I didn’t lift my eyes. I found my seat directly across from it, taking time to organize my files and papers, and then setting a single tape recorder down on the small table in front of me. The room was dark and damp, despite the upgraded facility, it was still just a glorified underground cave. The room, a steel room, had only one inmate with a single reinforced steel door. The door was barred, locked, and ID card opened. A single camera was peeking out from beside it, fixed on its prisoner at all times. The glass in front of me was for my benefit alone, as Strange had  _ so nicely _ pointed out, and had four quarter sized holes in the front, I assumed, for ventilation. 

I cleared my throat, using one finger to hit play on the tape recorder.

“This is Dr. Quinzel in session number one with patient 0801 known only as the “Joker.”

I finally decided it was time to look at my patient, and I steeled my nerves, as I finally met him eye to eye. Joker looked much different from our first meeting. He almost looked docile. He had no paint to see, his hair more of a dingy brown now than a green, and a bright orange straight jacket jumper. His face was completely unreadable to me in those first few moments. It seemed he wanted me to make the first move in our little game of mental chess.

“Hello, Mr. Joker, I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. Is that alright?”

Finally, his mask cracked, and the small makings of a smirk came to play in its wake.

“ _ Ohhhhh _ . That’s much  _ too formal _ for us, don’t you think, uh,  _ doc _ ?”

I bristled at his insinuation and I saw the look of glee in his eyes as he noticed. I recovered.

“I’d like to keep the formalities, if you please.”

He shrugged then, even in his straight jacket I could picture it perfectly, like the shrug I’d seen the first time we met. The shrug that seemed to say “Eh, whatever you want, doc.” Pleased he was at least being complacent, I continued on.

“Now, since you’re a  _ frequent visitor _ of our establishment, I’d like to forgo the usual entry questions and dive right into some more meatier ones.”

He eyed me then, licking the corners of his mouth, his expression glinting on the playful side.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I got these scars….doc?”

He was baiting me, probably knew I watched his tapes, but I remained neutral. He wasn’t the first patient to test me.

“ _ Not really. _ Besides, you’d just spin me a web of lies, like you did all the others. No,  _ Mr. Joker _ , I’d like to talk about  _ real things _ . Not  _ superficial ones _ .”

He stared at me in a way that seemed to say “fine then, show me whatcha got in that bag of tricks, doll face.” So, I did.

“For instance-”

I continued, tapping my pen to my mouth, leaning forward towards the glass. I’d noticed that before he’d been sitting on the floor, propped up against his bed, but now he’d gathered much closer to me. 

“-- I want to know your opinion on the emotion of fear.”

The Joker seemed to come alive, then, a smile finally forming on his face.

“Oh ho  _ ho _ , I like these new questions, doc.”

He licked his lips, a look of concentration on his face, and then he opened up the floodgates.

“ _ Mm _ ...fear... _ huh _ ? You know, I don’t particularly  _ like _ most emotions. Think they’re uh, a  _ useless _ , waste of time. But, I happen to like... _ this _ one. It’s the only one that has any kind of... _ real sincerity _ to it.”

“So, you view fear as the most sincere emotion? Care to elaborate on why?”

I said, still tapping my pen, digesting his words. However  _ predictable _ they were.

“So  _ glad  _ you asked, doc... _ You see _ ...there’s this, uh,  _ kinda box _ that you people  _ loveeee _ to put yourselves in. A box, full of lists, lists that can  _ nicely check off _ what kind of person you are, who you  _ associate with _ , how you _ feel _ , who you  _ love _ …”

He held my gaze with intensity. I watched him philosophize as I had seen in other videos, waiting, biding my time to pounce.

“See, as soon as there's enough  _ fear, _ well, people will do  _ anything _ to get back into that nice little box, won’t they? Rob their neighbor... _ kidnap the commissioner's family _ …”

It didn’t escape me he was trying to  _ bait me _ with his insinuation to Harvey Dent, however, I had finally gotten the upper hand. My lip quirked a bit, finally able to combat him, a flaw in his hypothesis.

“ _ Except _ , that failed for you, when you attempted to make all of those people on the boats choose. When it came down to it, they  _ chose to not _ kill each other.”

He paused in his chewing of his cheeks, eyebrows furrowing, a look of unmistakable anger cross his features. Then, it settled, and instead there was a rather contemplative look. As if he were  _ truly _ considering what I had said.

“ _ Mmm _ , a  _ slight miscalculation _ ...on my part.  _ However _ , we’ve seen it before,  _ hmm _ ? Recently with uh….that  _ Bane fellow _ , right?”

I was momentarily shocked that Joker had been able to admit his own failure. All of the data I had found on him suggested that he was a psychopathic narcissist, and for the most part, he fit in that  _ “little box” _ quite well. But this…. _ this _ was  _ unexpected _ . I struggled to find a suitable reply.

“Not everyone behaved like that, Mr. Joker. There were a lot of people who openly opposed Bane, which led to his incarceration.”

He sighed, as if he were trying to explain calculus to a small child, and then fixed me with an exasperated glance.

“Ya know, you uh….you’ve got  _ yourself  _ in a little box too, don’t cha,  _ doc _ ?”

I frowned, not liking the conversation turning to me at all. It was pretty common knowledge that this was  _ entirely inappropriate _ behavior on Joker’s part. I was  _ not supposed _ to be the one examined.  _ Yet _ , I couldn’t find it in myself to stop him. A part of me wanted him to analyze me. I was... _ curious _ .

“You’ve got...uh look in your eye, a  _ real mean one _ . I’ve seen it before.”

I swallowed thickly, begging him with my eyes to not say anymore, yet finding it impossible to stop him. His eyes danced back at me with mirth, ignoring me.

“I think...if you gave  _ my way _ of thinking a chance...you’d see how much  _ more fun _ you’d have.  _ No restrictions _ , no holding back that  _ mean look _ , no  _ little boxes _ to worry about. Just... _ impulses _ .”

My mind snapped back at his last words.

“Are these  _ impulses _ what drive you to terrorize Gotham?”

He looked at me, then cackled, deep in his throat. 

“ _ Terrorize? _ Why, I’m trying to  _ save _ Gotham. All those people and their suppressed feelings...it's enough to drive anyone…. _ crazy _ .”

I snorted, instantly horrified that I had broken my careful mask, and in the first session too. However, I didn’t let it stop me from carrying it further.

“Crazy, like  _ you _ , you mean?”

He laughed again, his eyes truly dancing, a smile spreading.

“ _Me?_ _Oh nooo_ , I’m the only _sane one_ in this _whole city_. And uh, for the record doc, you look _pretty suppressed_ to me. From down here, it looks like _poor Dr. Quinzel_ could use some _fun_ …”

I was speechless then, not sure how the conversation had once again turned to me.

“It doesn’t take much to crumble it all away...just...one... _ little _ ...push.”

I watched as, miraculously, Joker’s straight jacket fell to the wayside. Lightening fast, he stuck a pale finger through the hole of his glass cell, causing me to jar back and nearly fall out of my seat. As I heard the door alarm go off, I listened to Joker cackle.

“See? Just...like... _ that _ .  _ Perfection _ .”

He cooed, using his thumb and pointer fingers to mimic a camera at me. I watched as the guards yelled at each other as they came in, the Joker and I’s eyes still locked as they hoisted me up by my armpits. They carried me away as I saw the glass door slowly falling as at least ten guards attempted to subdue the Joker. For his part, he sat completely still as he were, just staring directly at me.

And that was my first session with the Joker.


	4. Chapter 4

**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

“Completely unacceptable, Quinzel!”

I winced as Dr. Strange laid into me. I stood in his office as he continued on his tirade, not bothering to even wait for me to sit down. I immediately went on the defensive, feeling myself bristle in irritation.

“ _With all due respect_ , inmate 0801 is not a _normal_ patient. In order to deal with someone like this, the patient must be lulled into a sense of security. They need to _trust_ me. _Just_ as I did with Dr. Isley--”

Before I could go on, Strange cut me off, an intense look of anger flashing across his face.

“ _Ah yes_ , Dr. Isley, the _plant controlling_ _eco-terrorist_ who you _smuggled_ a _deadly weapon_ to _._ ”

Despite the situation, I felt myself snort.

“A succulent is _hardly_ a deadly weapon.”

Strange narrowed his eyes, lifting his hand up off of his desk, my tape in between his fingers. He shook it at me as he talked.

“You think this is _funny_ , Quinzel? She could’ve _killed us all_ with that. You were _nothing_ but lucky. You _just wait_ until Arkham gets a hold of this tape, he’ll--”

At that exact moment, Dr. Arkham opened the door, and Strange paused in his tirade.

“-He’ll have already listened to it and be _supremely_ impressed. Dr. Quinzel was able to get real responses for a patient that had previously been impossible.”

I slipped a smirk in Strange’s direction, who looked at me as if he wanted to kill, then Arkham continued, his own eyes narrowing at me.

“However, you need to keep him in check. I _did not_ like the end of that interview at all. You need to keep it from getting too... _personal_. Despite him being behind bars, you’d be surprised at what he’s capable of.”

I nodded at his words, amazed that I hadn’t been pulled off the case yet. In the back of my mind, I wondered why it was that Arkham was so keen on continuing these interviews.

“Great, now that we have that cleared up, your next meeting with Joker will be three days from now. I trust you’ll go back in with a better understanding of what is expected of you. And Dr. Strange, you will keep me updated on her progress.”

“I will, sir.”

I replied, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Strange chewed the inside of his cheeks, his voice coming out forced.

“She’ll be watched with _diligence_ and, of course, I will let you know _immediately_ if anything begins to become... _unorthodox_.”

He fixed me with a heated look and I sighed. It appeared that I had won one battle, but had inadvertently started a war.

  
  
  
  
  


**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

**Gotham City**

I brought my coffee mug to my lips absently, my eyebrows scrunched up in deep thought. In front of me, I stared at the transcript of the session I’d just had the day prior with patient 0801. I felt myself sigh, staring down at the irritant in question, finally taking a swig as I eyed it.

“ _Except_ , that failed for you when you attempted to make all of those people on the boats choose. When it came down to it, they _chose to not_ kill each other.”

“ _Mmm_ , a _slight miscalculation_ ...on my part. _However_ , we’ve seen it before, _hmm_ ? Recently with uh….that _Bane fellow_ , right?”

All of my data on him suggested a specific sort of pathology. He was a narcissist, with very high intelligence and a sprinkle of serious control issues, and more notably, a raging _psychopath_ . However, this little _tidbit_ here _really_ threw me. In order to be classified as a narcissist, you needed to fulfil a certain amount of requirements. More specifically, the one I’m concerned with here is the inability to recognize personal failure. And, I don’t mean the _unwillingness_ to admit personal failure, but _quite literally_ the lack of _ability_ to recognize it.

Classic narcissists will do all sorts of mental gymnastics to justify their failures and they _actually believe it to be true_ . The fact that he was able to recognize his failure and admit to it to me, well, it _struck me to my core_. Where previously I had a pretty good take on where I thought he stood mentally, I felt now like I was swimming in an ocean of possibilities. And, more annoyingly, every time I dwelled on it his words just echoed and reverberated in my head. 

“ _You see_ ...there’s this, uh, _kinda box_ that you people _loveeee_ to put yourselves in. A box, full of lists, lists that can _nicely check off_ what kind of person you are, who you _associate with_ , how you _feel_ , who you _love_ …”

I was jarred from my thoughts, a ruckus in the coffee shop door startling me, causing me to glance over. There, in the door frame, was a man I knew well. Not personally, of course, but you didn’t _need_ to know him personally to tell what kind of man he was. Entitlement and ego compensating bravado filled the man in question so entirely, it was almost palpable in the air. 

_Bruce Wayne_ waltzed in, a girl on each arm, a big smile plastered on his face. I continued to sip my coffee as I watched him with a critical eye loudly address the owners, who promptly began to usher the two women and himself towards a table far away from me. _Good, I need some peace and quiet to finish organizing these files._ My eyes slid back to my work, totally uninterested in his sudden appearance anymore, until a few moments later I heard a distinctly masculine voice from above me. 

“That’s quite a lot of paperwork you have there.”

I felt myself give a small irritated huff as I flicked my eyes up to meet that of _Mr. Wayne himself_. That deceptively charming smirk hung from his face, making me want to reach over and splash my coffee in it. However tempting, I resisted.

“Indeed, it is. The kind that requires lots of thought-”

I said, putting my coffee down, my gaze boring into his.

“- _quiet_ , _unbothered_ thought.”

I finished, waiting for him to take the hint. Alas, as I had expected, he did not. Instead, he gestured towards the chair in front of me.

“May I?”

He didn’t wait for my permission. Instead, he simply sat down, causing me to grit my teeth. It was no secret that Mr. Wayne donated heavily to Arkham Asylum. For what purpose? It wasn’t clear. Boredom? Perhaps simply because he could? The only thing that _was_ clear was to me was that if I angered Mr. Wayne unnecessarily, it could reflect badly on me later. 

“So, what _exactly_ are you working on here?”

I swallowed what I _wanted_ to say and offered him a very insincere smile. I reached forward, turning the file in question over, closing it off to his wandering eyes.

“I’m afraid that information is _privileged_. I work at Arkham Asylum and these are my patient files.”

I didn’t give him a second to respond before I looked past him, nodding my chin at the two obviously annoyed ladies waiting for him, at the table I wished he was currently sitting at. 

“It looks like your _lady friends_ are missing your company, _Mr. Wayne_.”

His smile faltered for only a second, before he languidly stretched out his long limbs, making himself comfortable where he was. He clearly had no intention of leaving me quite yet.

“Oh, do you? I happen to work very closely with Arkham. I’ve been a very generous donor since I was, well, a very small child.”

He smiled again, ramping up his perceived charm.

“Perhaps I’ve met you before Miss….?”

Though I was smiling at him, my words came out between clenched teeth.

“ _Doctor_ Quinzel, if you please.”

Bruce didn’t seem deterred by my hostility, if anything, it produced yet another smile.

“I see, _Dr. Quinzel_ , my apologies. To be honest, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you. I saw this _pretty_ young woman, fully engrossed in her work and-”

He didn’t give me a second to process that he was quite obviously flirting with me now. He reached in his pocket as he spoke.

“-I knew I just had to invite her to my fundraising event.”

He leaned forward to slide a card my way, using one pointer finger, still quite relaxed in his chair. I was at a loss for words.

“I’d like to see you again _Dr. Quinzel_ . Now, I shouldn’t continue to be rude to my _lady friends_. I hope to see you there.”

He left me no time to protest as he stood gracefully, turning on his heels, and making his way towards his table. After he was a safe distance away, I took a cautious look at the card in front of me. 

“You are hereby invited as Mr. Wayne’s personal guest to the Gotham City Fundraising event at Wayne Manor. It will be held on Saturday, October 31st at 8 pm.”

I snorted at it, offended by its very existence, and tucked it within the contents of my files. I had zero intentions of entertaining Bruce Wayne’s advances. My only pressing thought, as I downed the rest of my coffee and left money on the table, was the fact that I had two days left to devise a plan for my next meeting with the Joker. 

A meeting that was likely going to be the _make or break_ for my new promotion. 

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

**Arkham Asylum**

I slid my keycard, unlocking my office, after another _very_ exhausting day. The client load was beginning to take its toll on me now. I walked over to my desk, plopping down, my clipboard discarded haphazardly on top of it as I did so. I sighed deeply, letting myself relax into my chair, running a hand through the pieces of my hair that escaped my usually tight bun, the other massaging the bridge of my nose. 

Due to my state, I hadn’t noticed anything amiss until a few minutes later. I opened my scrunched eyes to survey the pile of paperwork that undoubtedly awaited me there, only to see something that stood out as distinctly... _odd_. 

There was something black and red underneath the clipboard I had tossed, something I hadn’t ever remembered being there prior. Curious, I moved the clipboard fully, only to immediately feel my blood run cold. It was a card, more specifically, a _playing card_. The card was attached to a single, dark red rose, thorns still quite attached to it. I gingerly, breathlessly, picked the card from the thorns. I flipped it around, finding that the other side of the card was white, only marred by someone's writing. 

“ _Come down and see me sometime - J_ ”

Indignation and red hot anger flooded me until I felt like I must’ve physically resembled a tomato. Without thinking, I took the items in question violently, wincing only slightly when the rose's thorns tore at the delicate skin on my fingers. Without a word, I turned and headed straight for the elevators.

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

He was, of course, exactly where he should be; safely behind the reinforced glass of Arkham. He saw me approach, making no moves, but I could see a pleased glint in his eyes. It sickened me and did nothing more, but spur my anger on. I approached the glass aggressively, and he just watched with amusement, as mine bore down on him. In one fluid motion, I brought the card harshly against the glass, producing an audible slap. The blood from the thorns had mixed with the card, causing it to smear against the glass. 

“ _Care_ to explain how this ended up in my office? I think the guards would be _interested_ to know how you’ve been _out_ of your cell.”

My voice shook with my fury, but it did nothing to phase him. Instead, silence elapsed us for a few moments, his eyes flitting from mine to the card in question. Then, he leaned back and _laughed_ . The sound was offensive and I gritted my teeth at it. I allowed him to finish, my icy glare not moving from him or wavering for a second. He _would_ explain himself.

“ _Mmmm_ ….”

He hummed, finally, approaching me now. He stopped short a few inches from the glass. I was incredibly aware then of his presence. As fearless as I had felt a few moments ago, I now was reminded of the fiasco of our last session. How easily he had escaped his confines and incited chaos into our carefully placed structure. However, I wasn’t prepared to back down. I moved not an inch, my eyes _daring_ him to continue. Through the holes in the glass, I could feel his breath as he spoke. 

“The thing is _Doc_ …If you were gonna tell, you woulda done it already, wouldn’t ya?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he simply smirked, throwing his arms up abruptly. I winced as he turned on his heels, moving as if he were giving a performance to an audience rather than speaking to me.

“ _Ya know_ , I like what I’ve _heard_ about you and-”

He paused in his act, giving me a very pointed, knowing look.

“- what I’ve _seen_ . That _cold_ demeanor, that _violent streak_ you keep hidden behind all those self-imposed _rules_ . You make a guy... _curious_ . I want to see what makes the _good doctor_ …. _tick._ ”

I narrowed my eyes at him, ignoring his last few words entirely. 

“And what have you _heard_ about me, exactly?”

He turned from me then, and I watched in horror, as his straight jacket once again fell to the wayside. He spared not a single moment to digest it, before he began rifling through his bedsheets, producing something I hadn’t expected. A simple book. I let myself breathe again, relieved it wasn’t a weapon.

“I uh, read a little book. Got it from a _mutual friend_ of ours.” 

He stood a bit away from me now, showing the book off to me as if he were selling items on late-night television. It was comical, but that only stood to make it even more _annoying_. I felt all my anger get doused in cold water as I realized exactly what he had in his hands. His lips quirked as he stopped his posturing, pleased. My horror must’ve been visible.

“Let’s see here….Oh! _Yes_ ! This one right _here_ . This one is _fun_!”

He came closer, suddenly, causing me to take a single half-step back. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner.

“ _Harleen Quinzel_ , my brilliant student and associate-”

He pointed to me.

“That’s uh... _you?_ _Right_ , doc?”

He said, clownish surprise on his face, pretending to have no idea this would be about me. I shifted uncomfortably in front of him but found it impossible to move away.

“- has shown _unparalleled_ enthusiasm and usefulness in my _fear toxin_ research. Even to procure, unknowingly, of course, the _means in which I could administer it to the public_ . Without her, conscious of her contribution or not, my _success_ would be completely _impossible_.”

I felt myself finding it hard to swallow. I would never have guessed in a million years that he’d be able to get his hands on it. In fact, it should’ve been impossible. The only two people that had this book were me and…

Realization dawned on me, remembering just who was housed in Arkham right now. Dr. Jonathan Crane, better known now as Scarecrow. And yes, as the Joker had so kindly pointed out, my old mentor.

I reflected on Dr. Arkham’s words of warning a few days prior and cursed myself. My face must’ve said it all because he snapped the book shut, apparently satisfied with my current level of horror. 

“ _Ohhh?_ Why the long face? Don’t tell me you're _embarrassed_ ? Well now, I know _some_ people might find this kind of information about you... _unsettling_. But I-”

He slammed both of his hands against the glass, framing my face, as I winced and nearly fell backward. His eyes were serious, staring into mine. Searching for something? I didn’t know what. I simply felt my own eyes flitting about his face, trying to discern what it was he was doing.

“-find it quite _endearing_ , _act-u-ally_ . It makes me feel like there’s someone in here I can _uhh_...”

I found myself caught on every single word he said, completely immobilized, feeling dread begin to bubble up inside of me.

“-relate to.”

My anger came back at that, my eyes narrowing, my senses coming back to me.

“You and I are _nothing_ alike.”

I stated. The corners of his mouth turned up joylessly, more a sneer than a smile. He said nothing in response and as my adrenaline and anger died down, I winced. My finger throbbed painfully, causing me to look down, only to be greeted with the sight of my own blood, pooling on the floor next to my feet. I hadn’t realized the ferocity of my grip, which had apparently, cut me quite deep. I looked at my own blood smeared on the glass, covering a bit of his blank face looking back at me, tinting half of it in red. His voice broke the silence.

“Not to be...uh... _bother,_ but you _are_ bleeding all over my floors. You gonna treat that?”

The mocking insincerity bled from his voice nearly as much as I was. The entire situation made me feel... _off._ I felt unstable all of a sudden, nearly _dizzy_. I just about growled as I turned on my heels.

“ _Fuck off._ ”

I hissed back. I slapped my hand against the emergency button, which then spurred the alarm. The room flashed red as it blared on, but all I could hear was the sound of my keycard clicking the door out of his cell and near-hysterical laughter. The guards pushed past me as I made my way to Dr. Arkham’s office.


	5. Chapter 5

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

**Arkham Asylum**

“I found this awaiting me on my desk a few minutes ago.”

I slammed the rose and card down, my blood still smudged across it, on top of Dr. Arkham’s desk. I strode in without so much as knocking, so naturally, he jumped at my sudden intrusion.

“ _Dr. Quinzel_ what is the meaning of-”

He paused, his eyes going straight to the objects I’d placed in front of him, his face going a bit pale.

“Is that _blood?!_ ”

He asked, with some degree of concern. I’d almost forgotten about my still bleeding hand, and I simply opened my palm, allowing him to see it.

“Don’t be so alarmed. I just cut myself on the thorns.”

“ _Jesus_ , Quinzel, that’s quite a lot of blood. Here, take this.”

Still looking quite pale, he handed me a handkerchief from inside of his pocket. I took it, pressing it into my palm, the stinging helping me get a hold of myself. Satisfied that I was no longer bleeding freely, he picked up the card, turning it this way and that. I watched him read Joker’s provocative scrawl and scrunch up his nose in distaste.

“He left this for you, huh? This is quite _typical_ of him, unfortunately. I warned you he has his _ways_ of getting these kinds of _gifts_ to people. So _very typical_ . He _always_ attempts to bully and provoke his shrinks into quitting.”

I cringed unconsciously as he spoke the last sentence. He had _certainly_ provoked me, but I wasn’t going to throw in the towel. He’d had me right where he wanted me; _at his mercy_ . It did nothing but _irritate_ me. I clenched my teeth and silently vowed to myself I would _never_ find myself in that situation again. Arkham continued prattling on about him before I stood up abruptly.

“I need you to move my appointment with _him_ up to tomorrow.”

Anger radiated off of me and Arkham looked a bit taken aback. Before he could speak, I rationalized my intentions.

“He needs to know he _isn’t_ in charge and I’m not afraid of him. _I_ schedule the appointments and _I_ decide what we say and when we say it.”

Arkham seemed stricken by my sudden passion, but then I could see his mind working overtime. 

“While I agree with your logic, Quinzel, won’t that just provoke him further? We don’t want to run into a situation where he refuses to speak to you. Frankly, you’re all we have left.”

I smiled sweetly at Arkham, who stared back in perplexion.

“No. To _patient 0801_ , this is all a game. If I can show him that I’m a capable player, I can also simultaneously earn his trust. Which, if our conversation a moment earlier is any indicator, I may already have.”

Arkham started then, giving me a surprised and slightly angry look.

“You _actually_ went and _met_ with him?! _Quinzel_ that is _extremely_ inappropriate and-”

I cut him off.

“He said that he felt like I was someone he could relate to.”

Arkham stopped, rubbing his fingers against his forehead in thought, not looking at me anymore.

“He said _that_ , did he?”

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I walked into the cold, cavernous cell room, and once again made my way to the table in front of the glass. This time, I didn’t avert his eyes as I laid out my files, noting the slightly surprised expression on his face with some degree of satisfaction. As I busied myself, he finally spoke, that trademark smile beginning to form on his face.

“Back so soon? Did ya _miss me_?”

I paused to look at him, then sighed, and placed my tape recorder on the table, not dignifying his question with a response, as I hit play.

“This is Dr. Harleen Quinzel in my second session with patient 0801 known only as the ‘Joker’.”

Silence elapsed us for a few brief seconds, before I began.

“So, you said I was someone you could ‘relate’ to? Would you care to elaborate on that a bit?”

I watched as he took me in, his tongue lightly prodding at the scars around his mouth, seemingly thinking.

“ _Suurree_ , doc. I just uh, meant that we’ve got a lot in common, _you and I_.”

“And what do we have in common, exactly?”

I asked, my tone remaining neutral. I was curious to see what his response would be. I, personally, thought we had nothing in common. However, it was important to understand what he perceived of me, and in turn, it would tell me how he perceived himself. It would be extremely valuable knowledge going forward on how best to handle him. 

“Mmm, well, you project to the world that you’re this uh…. _straight laced_ good doctor type, but I know underneath all that you’re actually pretty…. _strange_. ”

I snorted, finding his assessment grossly inaccurate.

“I’m a person, Mr. Joker. I’m more than just a lab coat. I have my faults just like anybody else, but I wouldn’t exactly classify myself as ‘strange’.”

He hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side at me.

“You are _cer-tain-ly_ more than a lab coat. Say, how’s-”

He stood suddenly, moving a tiny bit closer to the glass.

“-that _hand_ of yours.”

He asked innocently, peering at the wrap I’d put around it. Instinctively, I covered it with my good hand, dismissing it.

“It was nothing. I just cut it on the roses' thorns. Why did you leave them in my office?”

I finally asked, my eyes locking with his. He stretched dramatically, managing to do it through his straight jacket, somehow.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He suddenly asked. I nearly choked on my own spit.

“ _I’m sorry_?”

“ _I said_ do you have a boyfriend?”

I frazzled at the question.

“That isn’t an appropriate question-”

He sat back down on his cot, interrupting me as he did.

“I thought not. Not careful, methodical, _repressed_ _Harrrleeen_. Tell me, have _you_ ever seen a therapist?”

I narrowed my eyes only slightly at him. I did not like how often he was asking personal questions. Even my own jumbled sense of professionalism was telling me this was crossing a line. However, like I had told Arkham, he wasn’t a _normal_ patient. He couldn’t be dealt with in _conventional_ ways. I swallowed my feelings and answered him.

“No. I don’t need a therapist. I _am_ a therapist.”

He lifted his eyebrows at me. He was quiet again as he thought, I could almost hear the gears in his brain turning.

“I bet one day you’ll _snap_...”

He began walking towards the glass again. The walk reminded me of a lion, languidly sizing up its prey. It carried itself with a certain kind of lazy grace, suggesting it knew it was beyond reproach.

“...pick up a big piece of metal…”

He continued walking.

“...and just smash some guys _brains in_ with it.”

He stopped at the glass, pressing his face close to the four holes that penetrated it. 

“And then _little_ _Harleeeen_ will find herself in a room like this one, with a straight jacket on, just...like... _me_.”

There was silence as he simply stared into my eyes.

“And then you’ll see you and I aren’t so different. Underneath it all, we’re just two people who embrace…. _our impulses_.”

The door buzzed behind me, jolting me abruptly from our conversation.

“Dr. Quinzel, time is up.”  
  
I gave my patient one last look. He was staring back at me, his dingy brown hair falling a little in his eyes, his eyes burning with a mysterious emotion. Perhaps it was satisfaction at winning yet _another_ verbal sparring match? _No_ , that wasn’t _quite_ right. I stood up and gathered my things languidly, making sure that he saw I wasn’t rattled by our last exchange. 

“Yes. I was just leaving. I’ll see you during our next session, Mr. Joker.”

I said, glancing at him briefly over my shoulder. The side of his mouth upturned, but it wasn’t _quite_ a smile. There was something _decidedly_ threatening behind it, his eyes still burning at me with that curious emotion. His voice drawled out, in that same mocking tone, causing me to grit my teeth in annoyance.

“ _Oh_ , I’ll be counting down the days until, _Doc-tur._ ”

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

**Gotham City**

I stood waiting for the train, my hands in a tight fist, nearly white from my effort. I usually prided myself on my ability to not bring work home, and _likewise_ , to not let a client _affect_ me so deeply. However, I’d be deluding myself if I tried to say that I _wasn’t_ affected. As the train approached, I realized again just how empty it was. 

I frowned, noting that I needed to stop staying _so late_ at work. I stepped inside, observing that the cabin I was in held two other people, a man and a woman close to my own age. I made sure to sit down a good distance away from them, in no mood to even risk human interaction.

_Finally_ , I was able to freely ponder all of my feelings towards our last session. It distrubed me that he had said that he and I were similar, _as it should for any sane person_ , but there was _something_ else there too. An emotion that I didn’t quite feel _comfortable_ exposing. Which was very _uncommon_ for me, if not outright _unusual_ . I prided myself on my ability to level with myself, to give myself the _absolute_ truth, even if it wasn’t always _pleasant_. Likewise, I also held everyone else to this exact same standard.

Some people considered me _cold_ for this sort of behavior, but that was a _grossly_ inaccurate analysis on it. This world wasn’t a fair place, filled with rainbows and butterflies. _Especially_ in places like Gotham and Arkham. In order to survive, it was essential to not sugar coat a _single damn thing_ . If I did, I would be deluding myself into a false sense of security, and then my very carefully planned out existence could slip out right from underneath me. That was something I absolutely could _not_ risk. 

I struggled with this feeling until harsh, hushed voices ripped me from my thoughts. My glance turned back to the two other people on the train, now quite close together. I realized it was yet another instance of unrequited advances. I huffed in irritation, resigning myself to drowning them out.

“ _Come onnnn_ , just _one_ drink with me?”

The man sputtered, clearly quite drunk already. The woman looked at him with that same reproachful look they always had.

“Um, no, _no thanks_. I uh, I’ve got to get home. I’ve worked all day.”

She struggled to combat him, but I could see he wasn’t going to be shot down so easily. He was in business attire, probably some kind of office worker. His hair had been slicked back, but had fallen in places. He was clearly inebriated as he swayed with each slight bend in the train. The woman was close to my age, moderately attractive, and very clearly uncomfortable.

“See, that’s _exactly_ why you _need_ to get a drink with me. I can make you forget _all about_ work.”

I could see the woman look at him in slight anger, clearly over having to deal with him. He’d reached over, grabbing her by her wrists. He was attempting to yank her from her seat, it appeared.

“C’mooonnnnn, don’t be a _buzz killer_.”

The woman reacted quite strongly to being touched. She attempted to jerk her arms away from him, but even his drunken grip must’ve been too strong for her. She only worsened her situation by pulling him a bit closer to her, and on unsteady feet, he nearly fell on top of her. She gave a short scream as he did. 

“ _Get off of me!_ ”

She managed, but he did nothing of the sort.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be _so forward_.”

He slurred out as she attempted to push him. He didn’t get the hint and began to dip his face closer to hers, still holding onto her wrist, essentially trapping her in place. The woman yelled again, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Leave her alone.”

The words left my mouth before I could think better of them. The woman stopped thrashing as she fixed her eyes on me, as did the man assaulting her. He didn’t let go, but fixed me with a mean gaze.

“How bout’ _ya mind yer own busines_ s huh lady?”

I frowned.

“I was trying to before you decided to assault this woman in front of me. She doesn’t want to get a drink with you. Leave her alone.”

He seemed to come alive then, lifting himself off of the woman, his whole body turned towards me now. 

“Oh ya? I don’t remember anyone asking _you_ for your opinion, _bitch_.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“It’s not an opinion. _It’s a fact_. You’re making her uncomfortable and assaulting her. Stop, or I’ll call the police.”

The woman had been attempting to scoot across the seat away from him, but he turned, gripping her by the hair and yanking her up from the seat. The woman gave a whimper and I stood abruptly. 

“Oh yea? We’ve got a good five minutes until the next stop. I wonder if they’ll get here fast enough.”

He threatened, pulling the woman again, who gave a cry in pain. I stepped closer to him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time to stop touching her.”

The man walked towards me and stopped just short of two inches from my face. He dragged the woman with him, who was attempting to claw at his hands. In his drunken state, he didn’t even flinch as her fingers dug into his skin. Abruptly, he let go of her, grabbing me by my own hair. I hardly had any time to react before he practically threw me into the pole. I smacked against it painfully, nearly knocking the air out of me. My head cracked against it, before I fell to the floor. Dazed, I touched my forehead, finding my fingers wet with blood. In shock, I stood on wobbly feet, as he leveled his face with mine. 

“Ya know, I _really_ hate women like you. _Uptight, know it all, cunts_ . How about you just sit here and _shut yer mouth_.”

He nearly spit in my face. I could smell the putrid scent of alcohol and bile from his breath. He began to pull away from me, attempting to go for the woman again, and something inside of me _snapped._

In one fluid motion, I grabbed him by the tie, ducked my head, and _yanked_. The effect was instant. He rolled forward violently, smashing his head into the pole with a force I didn’t know I possessed. He gargled, using his hand to catch himself, grabbing the pole. I quickly slid out from underneath him as he fell to his knees. Redness blurred my vision as I grabbed him by the hair, knocking his head back into the pole for a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth.

“ _Stop! Stop it! You’re going to kill him!_ ”

The woman's voice did wonders to clear the red, causing me to let go of the man in horror. He had been unconscious for awhile, it seemed, as he just slumped into a pile on the floor in front of me. I blinked several times, looking at the blood now pooling around his head. I stepped away on shaky feet, remembering the woman. I went to approach her, to ask her if she was alright, but she scrambled away from me. A look of unmistakable fear written across her face.

“No, no _stay back_ ! _Stay back!_ ”

  
  
She repeated desperately. For some reason, it angered me.

“Is this how you treat someone _who just saved you?_ ”

The woman looked at me with nothing but fear.

“You...you _nearly killed him_.”

She nearly screamed, her voice shaky.

_“You’re insane_.”

She added. 

It was at that moment that the train stopped, lurching me a bit, the doors sliding open. People began to enter, all of them giving a cry of alarm. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears, and the voice of the Joker reverberating inside of my head.

“And then _little_ _Harleeeen_ will find herself in a room like this one, with a straight jacket on, just...like... _me_.”

Numbly, I walked past the sniveling woman and the people helping her up, grabbing my bags. 

“And then you’ll see you and I aren’t so different. Underneath it all, we’re just two people who embrace….”

I stepped out of the train, my hand pressed to the wound on my forehead, lost in the crowd.

_“-our impulses_.”

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**


	6. Chapter 6

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫** **  
****  
****Gotham City**

The first thing I felt was a coldness, not just coldness, but _piercing_ coldness. The kind of cold that surrounds your bones in a vice grip, threatening to break them clean. The kind of cold that makes you numb, but not numb enough to stop the pain. I gasped at the sudden intrusion of it, wildly attempting to thwart it, my hands automatically coming up to hold myself. I shivered with great intensity as my blurred vision began to clear. When it did, I found myself standing on the edge of my apartment roof.

I gave a choked cry as I forced myself back, not caring about the logistics of it, only desperate to get away from the edge.  
  
I cried, lunged, and fell backward onto the harsh gravel and cement of the roof. The impact made my sore head hurt, making my disorientation worse. My mind swam, attempting to use the information available to me to figure out what had happened. I closed my eyes tightly, as I attempted to ground myself:  
  
 _You are Harleen Quinzel. You are twenty-six years old. You live in The Narrows of Gotham. You work at Arkham Asylum._

I felt my breathing beginning to calm as I repeated more facts about myself and my life.

_You called off work due to a head injury seven days ago. Your last memory is that you went to bed at approximately 11 pm in your apartment, alone. You are on your apartment rooftop._ _  
_  
I opened my eyes, finally feeling like I had my bearings. I shoved up a little, allowing myself to see just where I had been standing before. Which was apparently _mere feet_ away from plummeting to my death. I heaved a breath, letting that reality sink in, then let it out in a sigh.

_Sleep-walking. I had walked in my sleep, nearly to my death._   
  


I wasn’t unfamiliar with it.

I had been prone to it as a younger person, but it had gone away with time. And now, it seemed, I was faced with it again. I got up onto my feet shakily, looking this way and that, attempting to find somewhere back to my apartment. I found the door back down the stairs, taking careful and purposeful steps as I did, not trusting that I wouldn’t collapse where I was. _Stress._ It was likely due to the stress of my job and...the _incident_ at the station, I rationalized. 

Speaking of the _incident_ , I had told Dr. Arkham seven days ago I was taking a week and a half vacation. Which, he’d surprisingly given me. I thought it would give me time to clear my head, but apparently, my head was _anything_ but clear.

After what felt like a long trek, I finally reached my apartment, only to find the door wide open. I sighed, hoping I hadn’t been robbed in however long my absence had been. My feet felt raw as I stepped on my hardwood floors, cold, but less so than the cement had been. I closed the door, locking it, fastening it closed. I leaned against the door, reminding myself over and over again of who I was, what I was doing, where I was from. Anything to feel some sort of stability.  
  
And then I heard it.

The sharp, incessant ringing of my telephone. 

Instinctively, I reached for it, walking over to my coffee table. I didn’t even bother to see who it was before I placed it to my ear. 

“Dr. Quinzel.”

I said, attempting to make my voice as even as it could possibly be.

  
“Dr. Quinzel. There’s been an incident. We need you here, immediately.” 

It was Arkham. 

His voice was thick with emotions he didn't wish for me to hear. Perhaps anger? Annoyance? _Fear?_ However, I _could_ tell by his tone there was no room for dispute, so I simply exhaled before speaking.  
  
“I’ll be on my way in about five.”

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

 **Arkham Asylum** **  
  
**

When I arrived, the entire place was alight with police and staff activity alike. I pulled my coat closer to my body, my hair whipping around my face in the autumn night wind, my house slippers still on my feet. I had had a bad feeling, based on what Arkham had sounded like, and it seemed I had been right. So, I’d left my house with little thought as to what I had been wearing, though, now I wish I had.

  
  
“Harleen Quinzel, are you Harleen Quinzel?”

  
  
Someone to my right asked me, nearly frantically.

  
  
“ _Dr. Quinzel._ Yeah, that's me.”  
  


I answered robotically, my eyes still facing the commotion in front of the Asylum, wondering just what was going on inside.

  
  
“ _Please_ , come this way.”

  
  
I was ushered, a hand at my back by a nameless law enforcement agent, over to where Dr. Arkham himself was arguing heatedly with Commissioner Gordon. Gordon’s appearance in and of itself wasn’t entirely abnormal. He frequently came to oversee some of our more notable patients arrivals, sometimes even in toe with Batman himself. However, the look of concern on his face _did_ concern me. It took a lot to rattle a man like him, who’d been through so much. I was instantly disconcerted. 

He turned towards me, his face instantly clearing, and Arkham simply stared at me. 

“Dr. Quinzel, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“What’s happened?”

I asked, done with being kept in the dark. Dr. Arkham turned towards me, speaking before Gordon could. 

“Patient 0801 has taken Dr. Strange hostage in his office.”

I felt like someone had dumped cold water on me. 

  
“We’ve contacted Batman, but so far he’s a no show. We’ve tried to reason with him Quinzel….but he only wants to speak to _you_.”

I felt myself swallow hard, knowing exactly what was about to be asked of me. I searched within myself on whether this was something I was willing to undertake.

“I’ll speak with him.”

I finally said, the words spilling from my mouth like water. I wasn’t even conscious that they had been uttered until Gordon signaled a few men, who came over to me immediately. They shucked my coat, revealing I was still very much in my pajamas and put a very heavy, very overly sized bulletproof vest on me. The weight of it should’ve felt constraining, but for some reason, it grounded me further. I could see the look of apprehension on their faces as they began to talk to me about de-escalation. It angered me, suddenly, and I cut them off, feeling myself return.

“ _Please_ , with all due respect, I’m a _psychiatrist_ . I’ve gone to _school_ for de-escalation. We’re wasting precious time so, please, _step out of my way._ ”

I walked past them towards where the police had their guns aimed, all at the doors of the job I’d walked in so many times before, under less dire circumstances. It almost felt surreal. They attempted to stop me, but Gordon must’ve told them otherwise because I found myself at the doors. My hand shook as I touched the big, wooden doors, before pushing it aside.  
  


  
 **⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

**Arkham Asylum**

The inside of Arkham looked like a wreck. Thankfully, it seemed the patients here had already been secured and subdued. I leaned down, letting my hand press against a particular patient's wrist, searching for a pulse. They had been tranquilized somehow, all decided alive, but slumped over in various areas of the Asylum. I sighed, relieved to know that I wasn’t currently navigating my way around dead bodies.  
  
The police had told me that Dr. Strange was being held hostage in his office, so I gingerly and cautiously made my way over in that direction. It didn’t look like anyone had managed to get out, which I was eternally grateful for. I finally reached Strange’s office, the sight of it causing my guts to churn, my breath to come out in harsh puffs. I shivered, as I steeled myself, and knocked on the door.

“Knock knock.”

I accompanied the rasping with, tentatively waiting to open it. 

“Uhh, _who’s there?_ ”

He answered, in that strange cadence of his. I felt my blood still for a minute before I calmed it.

“Dr. Quinzel.”

There was silence for a moment before he retorted.

“ _Well_ , that's not how I remember that joke going, but uh, come on in _Doc-tur_.”

As slowly and as gently as I could manage, I pried the door open, only to stare right into the eyes of my patient. Strange was pressed against Joker’s front, his hands up in a silent panic, his mouth taped shut. Joker, for his part, had a knife pressed to his throat with one hand, and the other around his waist. I swallowed as I watched his clever eyes dance across me.

“ _Oh?_ Were you sleeping? How _inconsiderate_ ….of me.”

He gestured loosely to my attire.

“You know, it’s just as _inconsiderate_ to leave me all by myself for so long. A guy could uh...get _lonely_.”

I frowned at him, frowned at myself, and then sighed. Apparently, my absence had upset him.

“Yes, in fact, I _was_. Care to explain how we all got here?”

He ignored me again, stepping closer to me, pulling Strange with him. I fought the urge to step back, trying to remain rooted. He pointed at my head injury, and instinctively, I touched the spot.

“Looks like you uh, hit your head there doc. Or uh, more like someone _smashed_ it in, _amIright_?”

I stared him down, not letting my eyes leave his serpentine grey ones, waiting to see what I’d do.

I gave him the honest answer.

“You should see the other guy.”

There was a long silence until laughter was almost ripped from his body. It wasn’t even laughter as much as it was hysterical wheezing. He moved dramatically with Strange, but never eased his grip on the man or the knife at his throat. Strange simply looked at me with desperate eyes.

I tried not to look back.

“ _Oooo_ , you are just a _riot_ . You know, I think that’s why I choose dear ole’ Strangey here as my hostage.”  
  
I quirked an eyebrow, letting my arms cross.

“And why, _pray tell_ , is that related to Strange?”

Joker held up a finger at Strange’s waist, signaling for me to wait a moment, before abruptly slamming Strange’s head straight onto his desk, the man crumbling to the floor in a mass of limbs. I stood stark still, shocked, unable to react.

Joker licked at his lips before smoothing his hair back, waltzed over to Strange’s desk, and sat down in the chair. I watched the knife he still held carefully, feeling myself beginning to perspire with fear. He stabbed the knife into the table, causing me to flinch, but grateful that it wasn't currently embedded somewhere in my flesh. Not that he wasn’t plenty dangerous without it. I’d seen the pictures that prove that much.

He shuffled around for a moment with papers that littered the area, before finding the one he was apparently after, and smiled with glee. He cleared his throat, rather dramatically.

“Dr. Quinzel has repeatedly undermined me... _yatta yatta yatta_...doesn’t deserve patient 0801-”

He paused, pointing to himself, as if I could forget who it was referencing.

“ _That’s me_ . Unorthodox behavior... _yatta yatta yatta_ , some more soft stroking and theeennnn-”

He drummed the table violently, causing me to flinch, before he slammed the paper back down, reading it from memory, his eyes directly on mine.

“-I’m recommending Dr. Quinzel to be removed from the case entirely.”  
  
I watched him carefully, as I let the information settle. So, Strange was going to get me fired then? That’s what this entire thing was about? I frowned at him, before taking a single step forward. He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly at me.

“And?”

His eyes darted around my face, his smirk losing its vitality just a smidge. He stood, kicking the desk to give himself more room to exit it, and I jumped back to avoid being hit by it.

“Annnndddd? _Annndddd?!_ And _I say_ when we’re _through Doc-tur._ _I decide_ when this _little game_ we’ve just started _ends_.”

His voice was raising and I backed myself up to the open door.  
  


“ _Anndddddd_ I don’t _appreciate_ when my toys get snatched away from me.”

I felt anger radiate hot through my blood, I stepped forward, surprising him. 

“ _Toy?!_ I’m no one's plaything, Joker. Not Strange’s, but _certainly not_ yours.”

I watched as his mind worked just behind his dull eyes, once again raking my face, but I couldn’t determine to what end. Suddenly, he reached forward, grabbing me by my hair, and yanking. It wasn’t nearly as painful as it was shocking. I found myself pressed against him, our noses nearly touching. I almost forgot to breathe as his hands left my hair almost gently, falling down slowly, holding me there by my face. His eyes continued to dart, his tongue prodding at the inside of his mouth.  
  


“ _Mmmm_ , maybe not….a _toy...afterall_.”

He said, softly. Several moments spanned us where he just held me there, seemingly trying to figure something out, before I saw his face change. A look of irritation crossed it as he growled low in his throat, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.  
  


“ _Always_ interrupting…”

  
  
He said, right before the glass behind him shattered. 

It was a flurry of movement as I was pushed to the ground, encased by the Joker’s body. I heard a hard thwack, as glass fell beside us, the wind temporarily knocked out of me. 

“ _Joker_.”

The voice was unmistakable.

  
  
Batman.

  
I went to move underneath Joker, feeling no resistance. I turned a little, realizing then that the thwack I’d heard had been Joker slamming his head against the floor. 

He was out cold. 

I wrapped my arms around his body, attempting to loosen myself from underneath, only to meet blood. I felt around for a second, feeling a large piece of glass, lodged into his back. 

My entire body tensed as I realized with clarity;

Joker had…. _saved me_.

His weight suddenly disappeared, as Batman hauled him none too gently off of me. He dropped him on the floor with a loud thud, before making his way to me. He helped me stand, before I ripped myself from his grip.

“I don’t need _your_ help.”

I nearly spat, but Batman just dropped his hands, acquiescing. 

“Did Joker hurt you or Dr. Strange?”

He said, simply. I took inventory of myself and found that I was decidedly intact, but as far as Strange went, I could neither tell or care at the moment.

“I’m fine, _no thanks to you_. I think Strange is fine too, for the most part. Possibly a concussion.”

I said, my eyes traveling to Joker. 

“I’d like to advise you to not be so rough with my patient. He’s been impaled. I don’t think it's life-threatening, but you shouldn’t push it.”

Batman simply looked at me, his expression unreadable behind the mask. He busied himself assessing the Joker, his attention no longer on me. In that instance, I looked at my feet, coming face to face with Strange’s letter. Unthinkingly, I quickly grabbed it, stuffing it into my pajama pants pockets. 

  
“Noted.”

  
He simply said, in that overly raspy voice of his, his attention drawn behind me. I frowned at him in response, just as a hoard of police personnel came in. I was ushered out, a blanket put over my shoulders, as they bound Joker and Gordon shook hands with Batman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I'm a teacher and it's been- very unpleasant lately in that regard with back to school and all that jazz. I am stress.
> 
> That said, I'm hoping I can pick this up smoothly from where I left off and continue it through to the end. I've got it planned out for maybe a little over twenty chapters? So, I do intend to finish it off, hopefully this year!
> 
> And most importantly, thank you to everyone who left comments. I truly appreciate it, more than words can describe. 
> 
> \- Sp00kygrrl


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING. Non-consensual choking. 
> 
> Harleen gets a visitor at work. The Joker gets some alone time with her.

**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

“Dr. Quinzel, you are to report to Dr. Arkham’s office. Immediately.”

The intercom blared loudly, interrupting me in the middle of a session. I felt irritation thrum in my veins and wondered idly what could be so pressing.

“That doesn’t sound so good, Harls.”

I sighed deeply in response, beginning to pack my things up. 

“It’s  _ never _ good when they call  _ me _ up there.”

I retorted, resigned. Patient #66181, more well known as Poison Ivy, looked at me with a sympathetic look.

“You know, you don’t deserve all of the shit you put up with from them.”

And by  _ them _ , I knew she meant Strange and Arkham. Strange had been briefly admitted to the hospital after Jokers little  _ stroll _ through the Asylum. He was checked out and only suffered a very mild case of a bruised head, but a much bigger case of a bruised  _ ego _ . He’d returned to work that very week, and despite suffering a near death experience, he was  _ meaner than ever _ . 

Especially  _ to me _ . 

“No choice, Red. Like it or not, they’re in charge of my pay. And my patients. What if they got mad and took you off my list?”

I finally finished packing my papers up, pushed my glasses a bit higher on the bridge of my nose, and tried to smile for her. Despite Red (the nickname she’d asked me to call her) being a literal terrorist, I found she was an extremely sympathetic ear. I was always a little surprised and deeply touched when she showed such worry on my behalf.

“ _ I’d like to see him try. _ Not that I’m advocating for violence for the sake of violence here, but it’s really too bad Joker just didn’t kill that man when he had the chance. Would certainly make  _ both _ of our lives a whole  _ hell of a lot _ easier.”

I merely snorted noncommittally in response. I honestly was still wondering why he  _ hadn’t _ . Perhaps he just wanted to see how I’d react? That would be very  _ on brand  _ for him. 

Speaking of Joker, he’d been off limits, so to speak, for the past two weeks. I’d heard that he was under maximum lockdown. Which, equated to a big, bad villain, time out. They’d taken away all of his comforts and thrown him in a small, dark, and completely concrete cell.

I felt a pang of pity for him as I thought about it. He really hadn’t caused  _ too  _ much trouble. Sure, Strange got a bit shaken up, but otherwise he hadn’t bothered anyone else.  _ Hell _ , he’d even  _ protected me _ . 

That was a hard one for me to come to terms with. Still hadn’t really dared to pick  _ that one _ apart yet.

The thought was forcibly stricken from my head as I heard an  _ annoyingly persistent _ voice from above.

“Dr. Quinzel, please report to Dr. Arkham’s office  _ immediately _ .”

The intercom blared again and I clenched my teeth. With that, I turned, annoyed, and finally responded to Red.

“ _ A girl could only dream _ .”

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫** **  
  
**

I walked into Dr. Arkham’s office, not bothering to knock, and saw something that I hadn’t anticipated. Or rather,  _ someone _ I hadn’t anticipated.

Bruce Wayne himself stood in Arkham’s office. I felt a new level of irritation wash over me.  _ This _ was what was  _ so pressing _ I needed to leave my  _ patients _ to address? A  _ rich _ ,  _ playboy _ donor with a crush? 

I mentally wept over my Doctorate degree as I spoke.

“Mr. Wayne. We meet again.”

I forced pleasantries through my irritation. Mr. Wayne turned, smiled and offered his hand to me, as if we were the best of friends. I stared at it for a few seconds  _ too  _ long, before reluctantly taking it. 

His grip was stern, which was expected. However, more surprisingly, his hands were  _ very rough _ . It suggested hard labor, but that didn’t fit with what I knew of Mr. Wayne.  _ What an interesting development for this “playboy bachelor” _ , I thought,  _ perhaps there was more to him than he let on. _

“Ah, Dr. Quinzel, a pleasure. I was just speaking with Dr. Arkham about our chance encounter a few weeks prior. He was surprised to hear that you’d been invited to our fundraiser.”

A slight dig. I winced and attempted to play it off.

“Ah,  _ yes _ . Next weekend, correct? We’ve been  _ extremely busy _ here lately. It must’ve slipped my mind to mention it.”

I couldn’t let on about the breakout. Despite most events that happened at Arkham being public knowledge, this type of thing was  _ assuredly not.  _ Suffice to say, this was not the first breakout, and it wouldn’t be the last. Dr. Arkham had told them that, “it’s unnecessary to unduly frighten Gotham’s people every single time it happened.” A fair point, but the sentiment was also quite  _ false _ . The true reason? The less  _ Mr. Wayne _ and other donors knew about the  _ lapses _ the Asylum they funded had, the better. 

“Yes, she’s quite right. She’s been very busy lately with her new patients. We recently promoted her and she has a handful of extremely  _ difficult _ cases. You know, she’s the one who's responsible for all of the success we’ve had with Poison Ivy.”

I almost snorted.  _ Difficult _ was an understatement,  _ murderous would be a better descriptor _ , I thought. Mr. Wayne turned and fixed me with an appraising look. It looked like he was genuinely impressed.

“Is that right?”

He said simply, smiling at me. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like some kind of mental hospital brand show pony.

“Still, what a fortuitous encounter. Mr. Wayne came to drop off the monthly funds and happened to mention it. I was going to send Dr. Strange to the event on our behalf, but it seems that Mr. Wayne had already invited you.”

Dr. Arkham and Mr. Wayne laughed heartily. I forced a smile.

“Yes, how  _ fortuitous _ .” 

I echoed. Though, I doubted his decision to bring the funds in person was simply coincidence. He was  _ surprisingly _ quite persistent. 

“You should still send Dr. Strange. I don’t want Dr. Quinzel to feel like this is a work event. I invited her as a personal guest.”

I felt shock pierce through me as his eyes met mine, the words leaving his mouth quite unexpected.

“Oh? Is that so? Then I don’t want to impose. I’ll still send Dr. Strange on behalf of Arkham, then.”

Dr. Arkham seemed rather pleased by Mr. Wayne’s interest in me. I could almost see the opportunities and dollar signs dancing in his eyes. My stomach churned uncomfortably. 

“Mr. Wayne, I-”

“Please, call me Bruce.”

“-Fine,  _ Bruce _ , I don’t know if I can-”

Dr. Arkham cut me off, practically climbing over the table to squash me in a side hug. I was momentarily shocked into silence. I had never been so much as  _ sneezed _ close to by this man, so the sudden contact effectively shut me up.

“I’ve known  _ Harleen _ for several years now, since she was just an intern, she’s like a daughter to me, you see. What she’s _ trying _ to say is she’d be delighted, but she probably feels a little bashful. I don’t believe she’s ever had occasion to go to one of your events, Mr. Wayne.”

I felt myself bristle, but Arkham increased his grip to a nearly painful degree. He shot me daggers with his eyes and I picked up what he was giving off. I swallowed, understanding my fate.

“Um, yes. He’s quite right. I’ve just uh- never been to a fundraiser before. And  _ certainly _ not like  _ one of yours _ .”

A slight dig on my part, now. It was no secret that his “fundraisers” were excuses to throw lavish and extravagant parties for the rich and well to do. Mr. Wayne didn’t seem to buy the act, but simply smiled and nodded in understanding. 

“I see. Well, there’s a first time for everything. I’ve got more stops to make, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”

He said to Arkham, who fell over himself to shake his hand. 

“-And.”

He turned to me, taking my hand in his rough ones again.

“-there’s no need to be nervous. I’ll be your escort for the night and I’ll make sure you feel as comfortable as possible. I promise to not let you out of my sight.”

His blue eyes held mine,  _ heatedly _ . It almost felt wrong to be having this moment in front of Arkham, but that was an absurd thought, as he’d only just grabbed my hand. I had to hand it to him. If I were a more  _ emotional person (read: normal functioning) _ , that definitely would’ve made me fall for him. 

However, I was not. 

So, it simply made me  _ even more _ uncomfortable.

“Uh- _ yes _ , well, thank you. I’ll see you then. I suppose.”

It was clear he mistook my uncomfortability with interested nervousness and he let me go. I sighed deeply after he closed the door behind him.

“Now, now that that matter is handled, I’d  _ appreciate _ it if going forward you’re more  _ transparent _ with me. If Mr. Wayne asks something of you, report it to me,  _ promptly _ .”

I frowned deeply, feeling my anger return.

“My apologies. I didn’t think my  _ personal life _ had any  _ relevance _ to my work life.”

“It doesn’t. _ Unless _ it involves Mr. Wayne. Despite what I told him, you will be representing this Asylum. Everyone will see you there, with him. Even if it is a  _ personal affair _ . You’d do well to keep that in mind.”

At that moment, I thought back to the subway. How  _ good  _ it had felt to slam that creeps face into the pole. The  _ satisfying crunch _ of his skull meeting the metal. I thought about how  _ good _ it would feel to do the same to Arkham. Then, I swallowed hard, forcing these  _ foreign _ and  _ alarming _ thoughts out of my head. 

“I understand.”

“ _ Great _ . I’m glad. Now, onto why I  _ really _ called you up here.”

I cocked an eyebrow at that.

“You mean it wasn’t about Wayne?”

“Well, yes and no. It’s about the Joker. He’s been asking for you and we told him if he behaved, he’d get to see you when he gets out.”

I frowned at that. Not quite sure at how comfortable I felt being the bargaining chip. I let the sarcasm drip from my voice, freely.

“ _ Lovely _ . And  _ when  _ does he get out?”

Dr. Arkham sighed deeply, settling himself back into his chair.

“ _ Unfortunately _ , tomorrow.”

**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

“What do you mean this is where we’re meeting?!”

I felt my voice rise a bit, wobbling slightly.

“ _ Ouch _ , I’m  _ right _ here. You, uh,  _ really _ know how to hurt a guy's feelings, hmm doc?”

Joker quipped from behind his new cell doors. The only thing saving him from my wrath was the fact he looked like  _ absolute shit _ . He was covered in bruises, nasty ones, and his right eye was barely able to open. That, and Strange did it for me.

“ _ Shut it, clown _ . Dr. Arkham felt that since you’ve made  _ progress _ with patient 0801, it would be more beneficial to  _ forgo _ the usual glass barrier. He felt a more  _ personal touch _ was needed to work with this patient.”

Strange had a small smile on his face as he said it.  _ That rat bastard _ .

“And he didn’t think this was relevant to bring up to me? Strange, you’ve seen him get out of his straight jacket. It’s not safe.”

I almost pleaded, but stopped just short of it. Strange just kept smiling.

“ _ Oh _ , I brought that up to him. He seemed to think that since you’ve met with Miss Ivy-”

“ _ Dr. Isley _ .”

I corrected.

“- _ Whatever _ \- under similar circumstances, that you’d see no problems with meeting with  _ him _ like this too.”

I stared up at Strange, exasperated, and was left with no grounds to contest it on.

“That, and  _ he _ specifically requested it. As part of his stipulations for good behavior.”

I felt the hand clutching my pen begin to shake as I realized that this was happening. Either walk out on my job, the only job that would hire me, or possibly get maimed. I shot Joker an indignant look, knowing instantly he’d foreseen this. 

All he did was smile back in response, waving at me like a toddler who got caught with his hand in a cookie jar. 

I wanted nothing more than to  _ throttle him _ in that moment.

“Go ahead and let her in.”

Strange told the guards, turning to leave, before stopping short. He spoke, just loud enough for me to hear, almost directly next to my ear. He had to bend down a little to accommodate my height.

“Now you’ll get to know  _ exactly _ what it feels like to be held hostage by that  _ freak _ .”

And with that, he was gone.

I took several calming breaths before I walked through the door leading into Joker’s cell. Well, it wasn’t his  _ original  _ cell. Apparently, he’d completely destroyed that one -  _ somehow _ . This one was obviously meant to be a separate holding facility for meetings between patients and family members. You know,  _ conjugal visits _ , and  _ all that jazz _ . I winced as I silently pleaded to any god listening that he wouldn’t make that joke. 

I think I’d really kill him.

  
The guards were waiting, a little anxiously at that, for me to walk inside. As soon as I had made it in, they’d all but thrown the door closed and latched it, too many times for me to count. 

“ _ Ahhh _ , that’s better. Now it's just me and you,  _ dollface _ .”

I ignored his inappropriate pet name, deciding to simply sit down, and begin to unpack my things. 

“This is Dr. Quinzel with patient #0801 known only as the “Joker.” Session number five.”

His dull eyes,  _ well _ the one that wasn’t swollen shut, stared at me intently. All of his bravado gone as soon as Strange and the guards had dispersed. 

“So, you have me alone now, Joker. What exactly was the purpose, if I might ask?”

His body language changed then. He stretched like a cat, despite the various things keeping him attached to the table, and let out a sigh.

“You know somethin’? I got uh,  _ a lot  _ of people working for me, ya know. People you wouldn’t even think.”

I stared at him, wondering what on earth he was getting at.

“And they come and uh tell me what they see and hear. Kinda like I’m not even locked up in here, ya know?”

“And how is this relevant to my question?”

I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play a guessing game with him. He frowned deeply at that, like I had just recited the punchline to a joke he was telling. I feared for a split second he would attack me, but he didn’t. He just seemed only  _ mildly _ annoyed with me. 

“ _ I’m gettin’ there. _ Anybody ever told you you’re uh  _ kinda bossy _ before?”

I smiled at that.

“All the time.”

He smiled at me, my response endearing him, apparently. Then, he twisted, in a jerky motion, and I watched in horror as the straight jacket slipped and fell. The only thing separating us now was the very long chain attached to his hands and feet. I gulped, my head spinning. I had read that acting afraid is what gets these types of guys going. So despite my panic, I attempted to remain calm.

“Like I said, you need to lighten up,  _ doc-tur Quin-zel _ . Anyways, like I was sayin’-”

He stopped momentarily in his speech, his eyes dashing around my face, his tongue once again prodding at his scars. I’d come to know that meant he was assessing something,  _ really _ thinking about what was happening.

“-so uh, I kinda need your help with something.”

I swallowed hard as he left his seat, advancing on me. I stood, pushing my chair back and knocking my knees into the table, sending my files flying across it.

“My help…? With what…?”

I looked out of the cell, to where the guards should be, and realized they weren’t there any longer. He followed my eyes.

“Oh,  _ them _ ? They’re a little  _ tied up _ right now. I got a guy throwin’ a  _ real big fit  _ for me, to buy us some more uh  _ quality time _ .”

I walked backwards from him as he kept advancing until my back hit the concrete wall. He progressed at a steady, languid pace until he stopped dead, his eyes turned towards the floor. Perplexed, I followed his gaze. 

I realized instantly what he saw and I felt my heart drop. 

He picked up the card, turning it over, this way and that. I waited, with bated breath for him to comment, but he simply stuck it in his shirt pocket. I stared at him, eye to eye, with confusion.

He leaned over to my side of the table and hit the panic button underneath. I kicked myself for how stupid I’d been to forget it. However, confusion slowly washed over me as I wondered why on earth  _ he _ had hit it.

“ _ Hmm _ . So, what you’re gunna wanna do is  _ not _ tense up. And the more you fight it uh...the worse it gets.”

I felt my pulse leap into my throat.

“Wha-”

He cut me off, advancing on me again, holding the chain in his pale hands now.

“It takes’em about  _ hmm _ ten seconds to get here? Average time for someone to pass out is eight. So uh, I’m gunna need you to  _ not _ pass out before then, okay,  _ dollface? _ ”

I swallowed as he jumped at me. I felt my body react and I ducked, throwing my foot up and kicking him squarely in the chest. I felt him give a huff and then chuckle. I knocked him only a few feet away, but he staggered back up as if I hadn’t hit him at all. It was actually sort of impressive, really, with all of his injuries.

“ _ Ohhh _ , I love when they’re feisty, but we’re short on time so.”

With that, he grabbed me by my hair, the chain making contact with my throat. I felt him tighten it. Hard enough to impact my breathing, but definitely not as hard as he could manage. He held me against his chest, one hand holding me by the hair, the other snaked around of front, tugging the chain that was wrapped around my neck. 

Underneath the baggy clothes, I realized he was quite strong. I could feel the muscles flexing just behind my back. I tried to scream, but nothing escaped.

“ _ Nuh uh uh _ . What did I say about fighting it?”

He cooed, as if he were talking to a rambunctious child, and not a woman he was currently choking out. I felt myself get light headed and my body became lax. He let go of my hair, which fell around my face out of its bun, using it to hold me upright.

“Thereeee we go.”

He said, his thumb that was touching my waist area gently gliding over my stomach in a back and forth motion. He gripped me, spinning me around, letting off the chain completely. However, I was still too dizzy to react. 

Then, he began to half-heartedly dance with me like a ragdoll, humming some sort of melody. My legs were too wobbly to contribute much, I just gripped his shirt with my nails, hoping I wasn’t going to be flung across the floor. And, eventually, he stopped, flashing me a slightly annoyed look.

“Not much of a uh dancer, are you?”

Sadly, I thought about how this was probably the first time in a long time anyone had danced with me like that. I blamed my oxygen deprived brain for that thought. Then, I heard the door click open and a lot of noise. I felt the rumble of the Joker's voice beside my ear.

“Oh.  _ And there they are _ . Tsk, tsk. A little  _ late _ , boys. Anymore and the good  _ doc-tur _ would be as dead as a doornail. And we wouldn’t want that.”

And with that, I was flung, directly into the arms of an orderly. My vision was wonky, which caused everything to skip forward, jumping from moment to moment. The orderly hauled me up and attempted to right me.

The Joker was jumped by at least five of them, his straight jacket put back on, as he watched and smiled at me. They hit him a few times, and I listened to the awful crunching.

“ _Don’t_...hit him. He’s an _asshole_...but still...a patient.”

I managed to get out, my voice raspy from the chain. They stopped, looked at me as if I were crazy, and then began to haul him out. I noticed that Frankie, the scarred orderly, was among them.

Right before he passed me, undoubtedly back on his way to lockdown, he fixed me with a very serious glare.

“Gotta say, _Harls_ , I uh expected you to be a  _ better dancer. _ _Especially_ with that  _ fundraiser _ coming up so soon. I hope  _ Mr. Wayne _ can make up for it. Wouldn't want ya to _embarrass_ yourself.”

  
I stood on shaky legs, rubbing my throat, watching him being escorted out, feeling like my life was spiraling  _ rapidly _ out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the wonderful people who comment and leave kudos, despite me taking such a long break from writing this fic. I will try my best to update with more frequency, but it's been very hard to find the extra time. Again, thank you all so much for being so supportive and taking time to read my fic. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen and Strange get into it. Frankie shows up at her doorstep, looking a bit nervous.

**Gotham City**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I brushed my teeth, frowning deeply at myself in the mirror. I lifted my chin to expose more of my pale skin, which was now marred by light purple and blue bruises, resembling the linking in a chain. I grimaced slightly, remembering the last time I’d set foot in Arkham.

Dr. Arkham had been extremely regretful, which was _new_. I’d been rushed into the care unit usually reserved for patients, but I’d refused treatment and instead, made a beeline straight to Arkham’s office. I paused at the door hearing raised voices from inside.

I was not surprised to find Strange there.

“-I told you she’s just not _ready_ for cases like these. _She’s soft._ _Breakable_. She can’t _handle_ him. If you’d just let me take a shot at him, I could-”

Despite my injuries and shock, I’d felt myself floored with anger. I let myself all the way in, nearly slamming the door open. Dr. Arkham saw me and his face immediately paled.

“Dr. Quinzel - I - I just want to say how _sorry_ I am that I recommended-”

I interrupted him, cutting to the chase. Strange looked at me through narrowed eyes. 

“-With all due respect Dr. Arkham, patient #0801 is _my_ patient. And I intend to have him stay that way.”

I shot Strange a look as I approached Arkham’s desk, slamming my hands down for effect.

“I’m not naive. Things like these happen when you work with level fours. I knew the risk when I agreed to the promotion and I do _not_ regret it. I’m not as _soft_ as Dr. Strange would have you believe.”

I let my words hang in the air for a moment, looking at Arkham’s stunned features.

“I’ve managed to get responses out of patient #0801, responses that all his prior shrinks have not been able to get, need I _remind you_ . It would be _foolish_ and _short-sighted_ to ignore that progress. We can’t let a simple misunderstanding set us back, Dr. Arkham.”

Dr. Strange, of course, instantly refuted this.

“ _Please._ While it’s undeniable she made progress with _Miss Ivy_ , I have yet to see any proper help regarding _him_ . _In fact_ , since she’s been around he’s become more active, i _n a negative way_. “

I turned to Strange then, addressing him fully.

“Yes, that’s true. We have seen him more active, more active than ever. However, I _have_ gotten genuine responses from him.”

I could tell Arkham was intrigued at this as he looked at me expectantly to explain. I struggled to continue, finding the words leaving my mouth before I could think better of them.

“When questioned about his failed plan for Harvey Dent, he was able to recognize that failure and own it. This goes to attest that he isn’t a cut and dry narcissistic psychopath. There may yet be hope to turn him around.”

I half-lied. 

“You believe that _he_ can be _rehabilitated_ ? _The Joker?_ Are you completely out of your gourd?”

Strange countered, his entire being bristling. I corrected him.

“I simply am saying he has the _potential_. Think about it-”

I implored Arkham now, coming up with anything to keep my position, only vaguely aware of what I was saying.

“-think about the headlines. ‘Arkham Asylum Cures the Clown.’ Wouldn’t that help bolster the notoriety of our hospital?”

There was silence as Arkham drank in the picture I had painted for him. He rubbed his chin in thought as Strange seethed quietly beside me.

“I see. Well, I can’t deny that that is quite an _intriguing_ notion. I think, for now, I will allow Dr. Quinzel to continue her treatment of patient #0801.”

I let the air out I’d be been holding, nodding vigorously. 

“Of course, sir. I understand.”

I said as I saw Strange’s jaw clench. He turned and walked out of the room, rage radiating off of him. Arkham sighed, then spoke.

“Patient #0801 will be moved to another cell. You will continue to see him behind the glass-”

I cut him off.

“- Excuse me sir, not to interrupt, but I disagree with this decision. I would like to continue to meet with him, face to face. I do believe that your reasoning was sound. I simply need to be more alert.”

Arkham seemed surprised, then considered it. I continued.

“I managed to meet with Dr. Isley under similar circumstances and we formed a bond that has kept her a model patient. I believe that I can do the same with him. Besides, if I meet with him behind the glass, he will misconstrue it as fear. I don’t believe he will respond well to that.”

Arkham hummed, looking at me with an impressed expression.

“I admire your drive and strength, Quinzel. I will grant your request.”

I’d left his office only to walk a few paces and be slammed against the side of the hallway wall. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t kind. Strange had a handful of my labcoat, bringing me up to the tips of my toes. 

“ _You better watch yourself_ , Quinzel. You’re playing games you can’t win. You’re out of your _depth_.”

I growled out my irritation, grabbing his hands hard with my nails until he relaxed them in pain, and I could remove them from my person.

“ _Don’t touch me_.”

I snarled, catching him by surprise.

“And you have _no idea_ what I’m _capable_ of.”

I spat at him, as I turned on my heels, and left him without a second glance back.

After that, I’d left and gone home for the day. And now, I stared at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing what I saw. I saw disheveled hair, pieces long since fallen out of the bun I usually wore, dark circles, and red rimmed eyes. 

It was at that very moment, I heard the distinctive sound of knocking on my front door. It was tentative, but obviously persistent. I sighed, walking over and looking through the peephole. I was extremely surprised to see Frankie, the scar faced orderly, standing there, nervously fiddling with his fingers. I didn’t unlatch the hook, pulling it open only enough for him to see half of my face.

“ _Frankie?_ Is that you? What’re you doing here?”

His head snapped up and he gave me a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, it’s me H-uh, Dr. Quinzel.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes a little.

“It’s after work hours. You can just call me Harleen.”

“Alright, Miss Harleen.”

I sighed again, getting a little tired of the conversation already.

“ _Look_ , what’re you doing here? I was just about to go to bed.”

Frankie looked even more nervous as he began explaining.

“Well, uh, I was told by Dr. Arkham to come get ya. He said there’s been some kind of incident at the hospital. He needs you there fast and that since I lived near ya, I should come pick you up. Car is faster than train, ya know?”

I stared at him for a moment, thinking, before pulling the door back and unlatching it, swinging it open.

“Another incident? Jesus, we can’t catch a break, huh?”

“Nope, don’t seem like it lately.”

He answered, shakily laughing. I pointed towards the couch as I began to busy myself getting dressed. I talked to him through my bedroom door.

“Did he say what happened?”

Frankie’s voice flitted in from the couch.

“Nah, he never tells me nothin’. I just do what he says, ya know?”

I snorted, nodding as I went to pull my coat from the coat hanger. Frankie stood up from the couch, trailing me as I closed the door and locked it shut.

“I know what you mean. It’s the same way for me.”

I said, and just as I finished locking the door, I felt a cold, hard object poke me in the back. I felt my blood freeze in my veins. Frankie shifted behind me, a movement I recognized as him being uncomfortable.

“Uh, sorry about this Miss Harleen, but I’m gunna need ya to stay real quiet and follow my directions. No funny business, alright?”

**Gotham City**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

Frankie kept me in front of him, his arm snaking around my middle, leading me through the apartment building. I realized immediately that the few people in the lobby couldn’t see the gun and probably thought Frankie was my overprotective boyfriend. I nearly snorted at the thought. Once we’d reached the frigid outside air, he’d eased me into the back of a black, heavily tinted parked car at gunpoint.

I clambered in as he threatened me.

“Look, I need ya to just sit back there like a good girl, alright? If you try to run out or scream I’m gunna have to shoot ya. And I really don’t wanna have to shoot ya.”

I swallowed hard, nodding, as he disappeared, only to reappear as he got into the driver's seat. He put it into park, gestured for me to put my seatbelt on ( _wow, a gentlemen kidnapper, who would’ve thought?_ ) and then once I had, began to drive and talk.

“I bet you’re wonderin’ why I kidnapped you, huh?”

“That would be an understatement.”

I said back through clenched teeth, feeling like a toddler having a tantrum in the backseat, arms folded across my chest in righteous indignation. 

“Yeaaahhh. Well, I was a little surprised too. It ain’t like the boss to involve people - _people like you_ \- in shit like this. But it ain’t my place to go and question him, ya know?”

_People like me, huh?_ Stupidly, I sort of felt insulted by that. I pressed him.

“Boss?”

I asked, and Frankie seemed to become nervous again. I could tell by the way his shoulders tensed up from behind. He drove with one hand, the other one on his gun. I looked around the car for anything I could use against him, but it was empty. I idly wondered how much it would hurt if I just opened the door and jumped out, when he finally answered me.

“Ya know, J. I mean, erm, _The Joker_.”

All thoughts of escape were thrown out as I processed his words.

“ _The Joker?!_ Why on _earth_ would he want to kidnap me? If he wanted me dead he should’ve just finished the job yesterday. Frankie, you’re really working for _him?_ ”

I let the disdain drip from my voice as I said it. 

“Sorry, Miss Harleen, I dunno. I don’t ask questions. That’s kinda the first rule of being a henchman. All I knows is he definitely doesn’t want ya dead. He chose you to represent him today, afterall.”

I paused in my panic, feeling my brain short circuit. 

“Um, Frankie, _what the fuck_ did you just say?”

The car finally stopped and I took a moment to look around. It was clear that we were now in the industrial area of Gotham.

“J wants ya to talk business for him since he’s, ya know, stuck behind bars at the moment. He’s supposed to be meetin’ some Falcone guy about a potential job. That’s all I know.”

“Why me? Why not you? Like you said, he usually doesn’t ask _‘people like me._ ’”

I said, only a little bitterly. It annoyed me that he thought I couldn’t hack it. As stupid of a thought as that was, I couldn’t help my response. 

Frankie simply shrugged.

“I dunno. Guess he thinks you’re special.”

I felt no small sense of satisfaction from Frankie’s words, but shook it off to level myself. I was about to meet with an actual criminal to discuss “business” I had absolutely no idea about. And it looked like Frankie wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

_Great._

“Alright. Well, can I at least get some kind of weapon. What if he jumps us? Last I heard, Falcone wasn’t too happy with him for the shit he pulled with their money. You know, _burning it in front of them_ , and all that jazz.”

Frankie nodded as he went through his pockets.

“Looks like ya know your stuff, but apparently Falcone has bigger fish to fry now than J. All water under the bridge. Or somethin’ to that effect. That’s what we’ll be discussing today, I think.”

I nodded numbly, not really believing that for a second. He finally found whatever he was looking for, then presented it to me happily. 

I stared at it, blinking rapidly.

“Uh, Frankie?”

“Yeah, Miss Harleen.”

“ _What the fuck._ ”

I simply said in response, as I took what was offered.

“Sorry. I can’t give ya anything else. J’s orders.”

I grabbed the “weapon” in question, grumbling to myself.

“I can’t believe I’m going to meet the mob armed with a fucking tazer.”

**Falcone Warehouse**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

Frankie led me through the warehouses to some kind of fishery, by the looks of it. It smelled strongly of the bay and rotting fish. I choked on it for a second, but then steeled myself as wegot in the elevator, towards the office on the second floor. I began to panic, but then took a deep breath.

_Alright, Harleen, you’re going to have to do this. You got this. You’re tough. Way tougher than people give you credit for. J thinks you can do this, so you can do it. He’d know, right? I mean, he is a little crazy, but he’s not dumb. Right? God, how did I get here. No, no don’t panic. Think logically. What would he do? Shit, I look like a stuffy doctor._ I thought to myself. 

I reached up, pulling my hair out of the bun and let it fall down to my waist, wavey and slightly unkempt. I reached down and unbuttoned my shirt a few buttons, tucking them into my jeans and letting it out. I pulled the red lipstick I always kept in my coat pocket out and put it on. And finally, I took my glasses off, putting them in my coat pocket.

“ _Shit_ , doc. You clean up nice.”

Frankie said just in time for the elevator doors to open. A few men, rugged and muscular, met us at the elevator opening. They gestured for us to follow towards the office. I kept my chin up and did my best to relax my face, giving off an indifferent vibe. Finally, they opened the door for us, and the meeting began.

“You must be Joker’s associate. I’m Vinnie.”

Vinnie had greased back dark hair and a cheap two piece suit and was directing his introduction to Frankie, _not me_ , offering him his hand. Frankie just stared. I stepped in the way, taking his hand and shaking it, hard.

“ _Actually_ , that’d be me.”

“A woman?”

He said, skepticism and surprise lacing his voice.

“That a problem? J didn’t think the mob was sexist.”

I said back, dead panning him. Vinnie frowned, shook his head, and then plastered a smile across his face.

“Nah, _nah_ . Just surprised. Never seen a _female clown_ before. C’mon, have a seat.”

It irritated me that he thought I was some sort of lackey, but I took a seat, Frankie standing behind me, attentively. It reassured me a bit that at least he seemed to know how this went. I kept winging it.

“So, J told me you wanted to strike a deal with him.”

I offered, crossing my legs and my arms, trying to come across as slightly bored. It seemed to work, because he fell over himself to explain.

“Yeah, that’s right. Mr. Falcone has a few, uh, problems he needs rectified. We figured he’d be our best bet. We’ve seen what he can do first hand, after all.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“And what ‘problem’ would that be? Speaking of that, I’m a little skeptical. Falcone and J weren’t on the best terms before his incarceration.” 

I saw his smile waver for a second. I heard Frankie shift behind me. I knew instinctively he’d put his hand on his gun. 

“Nah, all water under the bridge now, doll. No offense, but yer boss ain’t that much of a noise maker anymore. Not being behind bars more than he's out. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. Fish like Roman Sionis.”

Vinnie reached over and Franke twitched behind me. Vinnie laughed.

“Relax, my man. I’m just grabbin’ a city map.”

And, he did, and rolled it out on the table between us. I recognized it instantly as the industrial district. 

“Roman Sionis. I recognize that name. Isn’t he the new and upcoming tycoon?”

I offered. Vinnie smiled and nodded.

“Bingo. Sionis’s daddy recently kicked the bucket. He used to be small fries, lots of dough, very little sway in the business department. But-”

He paused, rolling the map further open, until it extended out into Gotham City. 

“His son’s been a busy boy. The mob ain’t been doing so well since the Bat has returned. Not bad, but not like we used to. Sionis, _that rich prick_ , has been taking advantage of that. Buyin’ out all our warehouses that were going under and repurposing them.”

He pointed at several clubs that had recently been reclaimed by Sionis. I recognized one of the newly reclaimed businesses as the Royal Hotel in the Diamond District, which had previously been owned by Falcone. 

“Busy boy, indeed.”

I said distantly, raising an eyebrow. It was no small undertaking, and Sionis had managed to steal a lot from them. I was almost impressed.

“And we want that busy boy to take a few _financial hits_ . Cut him down to size. We ain’t tryin’ to _discourage_ business in Gotham, just the kind of business that _fucks_ with ours, ya know?”

I turned from the map and fixed Vinnie with a cold, hard stare.

“And what, exactly, do you want him to do about it?”

“We want him to destroy two warehouses-”

Vinnie said, pointing to them, then moved his hand over the map.

“- and cause a little ruckus for us in the Royal Hotel. If business starts failing cause the Joker is holding tea parties there, well, that makes it cheap for us when he sells it, don’t it?”

I crossed my arms, thinking carefully about what he was saying.

“What’s in it for us?”

I asked. Vinnie seemed to shift uncomfortably. 

“Well, we could offer you a mil for the job.”

Frankie spoke up for the first time.

“Boss said he don’t want no money. He said he’s in the mood to invest in some property.”

I turned my gaze back to Vinnie who looked a little angry now.

“Property ain’t equivalent to the mil.”

He stated, fixing Frankie with a hard glare. I spoke up.

“Listen, Vinnie. This Sionis guy, he sounds like a real pain in the ass. And as I listen to your story, I kind of get the feeling that we’re your last resort, am I right? I don’t think Falcone was falling over himself to work with ‘ _the clown’_ who stole from him, huh? Sounds to me like you don’t have any more options. I bet a guy like Sionis has most of the city on his side.”

Vinnie’s jaw tightened an inch. 

“I ain’t given’ him any properties.”

I stood abruptly, causing even Frankie to jump. I frowned.

“Well, I guess that’s too bad then.”

And I turned on my heels, starting to walk out the door.

“Wait! Wait, wait. You win. But we’ve only got one piece of property we’re willing to part with.”

He said, holding the map up, and pointing to it. 

He pointed to an area I knew well. It was the abandoned amusement park, right here in the industrial district. I smiled at him, sweetly.

“It’s perfect. We accept.”

I said, offering my hand to Vinnie. Vinnie shook it, smiling from ear to ear.

“Good to hear. We’ll be in touch.”

I nodded, hoping he didn’t mean me. I certainly wouldn’t be in touch with him. _I want nothing to do with this_ , I reminded myself.

“Great. C’mon Frankie, get the car ready.”

I said, turning towards the doors with the armed men. Frankie jumped to attention, smiling a bit dopely. 

“Course’, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who have left comments and kudos! I really, really appreciate the love you leave me. And I can't thank you enough for taking time to read this fic! :)
> 
> Follow me on twitter for update notifications/my weird thoughts @ 3am: @sp00kygrrrl


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen confronts J about his behavior and plans.

**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I walked into Arkham that next morning like a woman on a mission. All of my patients that day zoomed by, by sheer force of will power, until I was once again standing in front of the table that was between me and the object or my wrath.

I sat down at the table and pulled out all of my things, biding my time. For what we needed to discuss, we needed to be _alone_.

“Leave us.”

I said in the strictest, driest voice I could manage. It must’ve worked, because the guards did as they were told, and I finally looked at my patient. And, apparently, my new partner in crime.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t report you.”

Patient #0801 (which I now know goes by “J”) simply licked his lips, eyes vacantly surveying me. A smile began to spread across his face, one that I’d come to know meant something smart was about to leave his mouth, and gritted my teeth in anticipation.

“ _Ooo_ , doc. I am _digging_ the new look.”

He gestured to my loose hair and I merely rolled my eyes.

“I’m not here to discuss me. I’m here to discuss your little _extra curricular_ activities. Activities that I’m sure everyone but you, me, and _Frankie_ aren’t privy to. _Planning a break out, J?_ ”

His tongue prodded his scars and the smile faded. He seemed to drop whatever persona he was about to take on, and leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable.

“ _Mmm_ . As much as I’d _love_ to answer your question -”

He started, a sneer making its way on his face. 

‘Ya know what? _Act-ua-lly_ , I _don’t_. That _isn’t_ how this works. I call the shots and you uh, just _roll_ _with’em_.”

We stared each other down, my anger evident on my face, before I sighed through my nose. As much as I detested the fact he thought I somehow was taking orders from him now, it was clear he wasn’t going to tell me about any plans he had or didn't have.

That was probably for the best. I didn’t _want_ to know.

“ _Fine._ You don’t need to tell me your plans, you just need to leave _me_ out of them. I just committed a dozen felonies on _your_ behalf, _unwillingly_ I might add. And you still haven’t given me a _single_ good reason to not report you.”

I said, exasperated, anger flooding me. He blinked a few times, threw his head back, and _laughed._

“I don’t find this funny.”

I said, dead panning him, arms crossed. He clutched his sides before he abruptly stopped.

“ _Report me?_ Report _ME_ ? Oh no, no _no, noo_ . No _you’re_ not. You know how I know you’re not?”

I swallowed, remembering the last time he’d gotten cross with me, and instinctively touched my neck. His eyes flitted from my face to the bruises I’d attempted to cover with makeup. His eyebrows screwed together, a look crossing his face I hadn’t seen before. Then, he went back to the matter at hand. 

“Cause’ if you were gunna report me, _doc-tur_ , you’d have done it before you got locked in a room with _yours truly_ . _Nooo_ , you’re not reporting me.”

I felt like I’d been slapped across the face as he spoke, his dull blue eyes trailing my every expression. I felt simultaneously used and disappointed in myself at the same time. He was right. I wasn’t going to report him. And I didn’t know _why_ . Was it because Frankie said he’d found me ‘special’? _How pathetic._ His eyes darted to my things. Noticing immediately what was _not_ there.

“No tape today. Not a conversation you wanna share with ole’ Strangey? Or do you wanna keep me all to yourself? _I’m flattered_.”

He batted his eyes at me and I felt disarmed. Why was he having this effect on me? It made my stomach sink and churn. I struggled to gain back my control in the conversation.

“No. I could lose my _job_ . I could go to _jail._ You can’t involve me in this anymore. You’re right, I won’t report you, but I won’t help you either.”

I crossed my arms over my chest again, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He read me like an open book. 

In the next moment, he lunged forward, clearing the space between us with his impossibly long arms. I was too delayed to avoid him. He grabbed my face again, like he’d done the night he’d saved me, his pale hands were cool and rough against my warm skin.

It wasn’t gentle, but it was clear his aim wasn’t to hurt me. Keeping me in place and placid, more likely. Afraid and caught off guard, I stayed very still, not wanting to spook him, as if he were a cobra. His hand slid from my face downwards to my throat, and for a few horrifying seconds, I thought he was going to choke me again, and I squeezed my eyes shut in anticipation. 

“ _Poor Har-leen_ . Nobody thinks much of you, _hmm_ ? Never giving you _the credit you deserve._ Like Strange-y. He doesn’t believe you can _hack it_ , does he? _Ooooh_ , but you can. He has _no idea_ how you can. But _I’ve_ seen it.”

His voice cooed maliciously at me and I felt myself begin to shake. In my head, the image of metal meeting Batman’s head played on a loop, like a broken record, sickening me.

“And _you_ . You’re always _clawing your way up, tooth and nail,_ for everything you’ve got. Never just given to you. You’re a fighter. _Takes one to know one_ , ya see.”

I felt his breath hitch in his throat as his thumb ran gingerly across my bruised and sore throat.

“And see, I like that. _I. Like_ . _That._ ”

I swallowed, feeling him press his thumb into my bobbing adams apple. I hissed in pain and he abruptly removed his hand, like I’d burned him. I felt for a second, a sense of loss, and mentally kicked myself for it. _He’s the enemy, Harleen. He_ choked _you last time. Get it together._

I opened my eyes once he’d moved away. He was looking at me intently, thinking again, his jaw twitching slightly, his eyebrows were drawn together in a way that suggested he was irritated by something. I couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be and finally found my voice, a bit wobbly.

“ _Why_...?”

I was asking about it all in that one word. All of it. Vinnie. The plan. The bruises on my throat. His viciously sweet words. And the fact that every time he touched me, I _felt_. 

I felt _too much_.

I sounded _pathetic_ . I sounded _needy_. It was horrible, even to my own ears. I wanted to hit myself, but it was too late. It had already come out. I saw his jaw clench and his eyebrows draw together again before it was wiped clean. 

And then, unceremoniously, he was back to his usual blank stare.

“Don’t wanna spoil the surprise. Anybody ever tell you patience is uhhhh - _a virtue_?”

Was his smooth, cool answer. Stupidly, I felt my stomach clench in a series of painful throbs. I frowned at him.

“Yeah, well, I’m done with _this,_ whatever _this_ is. And I’m done with surprises.”

I said, beginning to pack my things up. I didn’t look at him when he spoke again.

“Would you like them more if they were from Bruce Wayne _?_ ”

I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, the words echoing in my head, loud as thunder. My hands stopped immediately in place. My eyes snapped up to his. There wasn’t a hint of a smile, or a sneer on his face. He spoke the words clearly, not in that sing-song cadence he usually had. It appeared, he was deathly serious. 

My head swam. 

This was... _not_ expected. 

I was stunned speechless, his eyes staring directly into mine.

“Find something nice and tight to wear? I heard Bruce-y likes’em cheap and easy.”

I blinked twice before a flush of anger overtook me. 

“ _Excuse me?_ I would _never_ -”

He threw his arms up, letting them settle behind his head, sighing loud enough to cut me off and keep me quiet. 

“Nah, you wouldn’t, would ya? Not _clenched_ , _uptight_ , _little Har-leen_. Tell me-”

He rocked back and forth in his chair, hands still behind his head. His dingy hair had fallen in his face, his lips curled into a joyless sneer.

“-you ever been in _L-O-V-E_ doc-tur?”

He spelled it out for me with his finger in the air, punctuating each letter with a brief pause. I blinked rapidly, processing his questioning, and decided to give him the real answers.

“No. Never.”

He hummed, thoughtfully.

“Not to uh, call you a _liar_ or anything, but I gotta say - _I’m a little skeptical_. Bruce Wayne himself comes and sweeps you off your feet and you don’t even fall a _little_?”

I frowned, a look of annoyance making its way on my face. The _idea_ of me falling for Wayne made me physically ill. It was an absurd and insulting insinuation. 

“ _No._ Truth be told, I don’t really conspire to the idea it even exists.”

I began. He stopped rocking the chair, seemingly entranced by what I was saying. I continued.

“I think we hang onto people simply because we’re under the false delusion that without them, we’ll somehow be incomplete. Then, we delude ourselves into thinking it’s love.”

He let silence elapse between us for a few moments, then threw his head back, laughing at me. 

“ _Hoooo boyyy. What an answer._ But you’re not strange, huh?”

I frowned at him.

“No, just rational.”

He smiled from ear to ear, genuinely entertained by my response.

“ _So cold_...you could make a guy delude himself into codependency.”

He paused then frowned and shook his head, a bit of humor to his actions now.

“See? That just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

He cackled at his own joke. I felt myself becoming dizzy and sick. I needed to leave the room. I got up, picking up the rest of my things. I didn’t turn when I slid my keycard, alerting the guards that our session was over, and to release me from the cell.

“Falcone wants you to hit two warehouses owned by Roman Sionis in the industrial district. Then, he wants you to cause a ruckus at the Royal Hotel. He tried to offer a mil, but we bargained for the abandoned amusement park property. They agreed and said they’d be in touch. That was it.”

There was silence after I said it. Maybe he was in shock I’d actually told him. Or that I’d managed to strike the deal at all.

“ _Now_ our business is done.”

I announced. 

As the guards arrived, I heard his voice from behind me, only audible to me.

“ _Oh no_ oo, our business has only just _begun_.”

I ignored him and walked out.

  
  


**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

The next day I, thankfully, didn’t need to see any patients. I was strictly confined to my office, pouring myself over copious amounts of patient records. Once a month, we were required to write up reports on each and every single one, and file them away for inspection at the end of that quarter. Since I had the upcoming fundraiser, I was having to do what usually took me all weekend, in a single Friday. I’d asked Arkham for the time to do them, and of course, he was more than happy to provide it to me. I rolled my eyes at the thought. He was extremely transparent. It was clear he thought me seeing Wayne would benefit him somehow.

I’d been reaching the end of my lengthy list of clients when someone burst into my office, momentarily stunning me. 

And, of course, that _someone_ was Strange. 

He was striding in aggressively towards my desk, something held in his hands I couldn’t identify. Without a word, he snatched the tape recorder I had on my desk, and popped a tape in, which began to play audibly.

“I’m not here to discuss me. I’m here to discuss your little _extra curricular_ activities. Activities that I’m sure everyone but you, me, and _Frankie_ aren’t privy to. _Planning a break out, J?”_

I froze, recognizing the sound of my own voice instantly. He hit the forward button, his eyes narrowed.

“ _Fine._ You don’t need to tell me your plans, you just need to leave _me_ out of them. I just committed a dozen felonies on _your_ behalf, _unwillingly_ I might add. And you still haven’t given me a _single_ good reason to not report you.”

The next one was J’s voice, cooing at me, and it made me shiver despite myself.

“He doesn’t believe you can _hack it_ , does he? _Ooooh_ , but you can. He has _no idea_ how you can. But _I’ve_ seen it….And see, I like that. _I. Like_ . _That.”_

He hit stop and slammed it on my desk, causing it to shake. I stood, slightly afraid, causing my chair behind me to fall.

“You’re _finished_ Quinzel. _FINISHED!_ ”

He began walking towards me as I moved from behind my desk to meet him, anger and shame flaming my face.

“You- _You_ had no _RIGHT_ recording me. How did you even get this?!”

Strange advanced on me until we were only mere inches apart, his breath fanning across my face.

“No right? _No right?!_ That’s _rich_ from someone who’s conspiring with a criminal. Oh, I’ve got my ways. My own set of eyes and ears. And now I’ve got it all on tape _Quinzel_ . You’ll be lucky if you escape _prison_ , let _alone_ ever practice again.”

He began to poke me in the collarbone, hurting me slightly.

“ _Don’t touch me._ ”

I began, flinging his finger away. I stood on my toes to lean into his face, trying to give back what I was getting. My heart was pounding in my ears, panic swelling in me.

“- _You_ -you _can’t_ bring that to anyone Strange.”

I almost pleaded, my eyes shifting around his face, finding an even more irate expression. I tried to be intimidating, but it simply came off as desperate. Strange snorted at me, humorlessly.

“ _I can’t, can I?_ Why would I _not?!_ You’re going to damage the _entire institution_ single handedly. And for what Quinzel? Did he tell you you were _pretty_? Offer you _money_? Gotta be _something_ _good_ to fall for someone with a _face_ like that.”

I felt my mouth go dry at his insinuation. 

“ _I_ -no. No, it wasn’t like that. _Not at all._ Just give me a moment to _explain_.”

Before Strange could reply, the alarm began to go off at Arkham, cutting the overhead lights in the room. We were plunged into near darkness, the only lights, the dull emergency lights and the red alarm blaring in the corner of the room. I stood, frozen, my heart picking back up again. Strange grabbed me by my shirt then.

“ _You_ \- this is all _your_ fault. You _stupid_ , little _bitch_.”

I felt the moment I snapped. 

I felt the _exact_ time that _all_ of the _desperation_ vacated my body and was replaced with sheer, unadulterated _anger_ . I didn’t care anymore what anyone thought. I was _done_ with people looking at me as _nothing_ . I was done with being the helpless, little _Harleen_. In one swift motion, I pushed Strange away, causing him to stumble back a few steps. Then, I pulled my fist back, and sucker punched him in the face.

I felt the crunch of his nose as I made contact, probably breaking it, as droplets of blood flew around the room. My knuckles stung, but less than I thought. I should’ve felt horrified, but I didn’t. 

It felt _good_. 

It felt _right_.

I only had a single moment to marinade in my victory before he was on me.

“You little _fucking_ cunt!”

He raged, grabbing at my throat. I felt my entire body go into panic mode as, once again, I was being strangled. However, I now had a new appreciation for the way J had done it. Where J had applied steady pressure, almost delicate with it, Strange started with a _death grip_. 

I felt the air not only being stuck, but nearly forced out of me with his strong grip. Instinctively, I thrashed and began to dig my nails into his hands. The look on his face was distorted with pure rage, more rage than I’d ever seen. It was horrifying. I tried to kick him but he didn’t seem to even feel it. The blood from his (presumably now broken) nose, dropped freely onto my face. 

I felt tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die _like this._ It was then that I heard his voice.

“ _Uh_ , whatcha doin’ there, doc?”

I was instantly released. I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my hands coming to my throat. I took in horrid sounding breaths, shaking. My vision was uneven, but I could see his bare feet on the wood floor. I followed them up to the rest of him, startled by what I saw. It was J, face paint on, a gun in his hands, pointed at Strange. Strange, for his part, began to back up away from him, hands up.

“Wha-... _how_...did you...get out?”

I said to him, struggling to breathe still, using my desk to pull myself up. J took me in for a second, then walked over, grabbing me roughly by my arm and hoisting me back onto my feet and holding me there. After a moment, he seemed to be satisfied that I could stand on my own, and then began to answer me, releasing me.

“ _Mmm._ Well, it was really impossible without ya, _Harls_.”

I stared at him, using one hand to brace the wall, not quite following. He smiled reaching out to me, but he didn’t touch me, just pulled something seemingly from behind my left ear. I stared at it.

“My... _pen_?”

I realized in that moment that it was the pen I had been missing since…

“ _Bingo_. Oh, I think there’s something behind the other one too.”

He did the same trick with my other ear, this time producing a mangled bobby pin. _My_ bobby pin.

“You _choked me_ for a pen and a bobby pin?!”

I said, angered. He only smiled, so wide, it looked comical.

“ _She’s on a roll, folks_. And uh, sorry bout that. Couldn’t exactly ask you to hand it over.”

Suddenly, it all clicked and I felt myself giving a small huff of laughter. The situation felt too ridiculous to be _real_. J smiled at me and gave a cackle in response.

“You’re _both_ crazy.”

J’s eyes shifted towards Strange, his mouth twitching a little at his comment, smile diminishing only slightly.

“ _OOooo_ , yes. Almost _forgot_ about you. You’re uh, _interrupting_ our reunion. So I’m going to need you to _shut the fuck up_ , hmm?”

J began to advance on Strange when I felt the door open beside me, surprisingly, producing _Frankie_. I blinked at him as he took me in for a second, looking a bit aghast.

“ _Boss we gotta_ \- _Oh_ Miss Harle- _oh shit_ , what happened to ya? Uh, anyway, Boss we gotta get goin’. The cops are gunna be here _any_ min-”

J held a hand up, his voice coming out in a deeper, guttural command. It caused me to shiver in fear and I felt Frankie straighten up beside me.

“ _Can it._ Go make yourself useful and get the fuckin’ boat ready, would ya? I gotta take care of something.”

“Course’, Boss. See ya, Miss Harleen.”

I stood still, still having difficulty getting my legs and brain to function properly. J stopped advancing on Strange and stood directly in front of my desk, before turning to me, never letting the gun leave Strange’s person.

“I don’t usually uh _like to repeat my acts_ , but I guess it’s true what they say. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

He gave a horrible laugh, the kind that I’d seen on the news. That cackling sound, deep in his throat. Then, he slammed my pen into my desk, so it was sticking straight up. 

“ _Harleen_ \- _please_ \- you need to stop him. _Say something_.”

Strange begged me, but I could only stare in mild horror.

“ _Nuh uh uh_ . _I_ call the shots here. Ya know, I _reallllllly_ don’t like it when people touch things that belong to _me_ . Not. at. _All_.”

Strange began to panic as he approached, but J ignored him, simply looking at me.

“Ya wanna see a magic trick?”

I nodded numbly at him, not sure what was going to happen next. 

In one swift motion, he grabbed Strange and slammed his face directly into the pen. The pen impaled his right eye, going directly into his brain, killing him instantly. He let go, causing Strange to slide down the desk, onto the floor in a heap.

“Hoo _hoo_ h _ah ha_ taaadddaaaa. Whaddya think?”

He said, bowing for me slightly. 

I gave a horrible, gut wrenching scream. It was hysterical and left me unwillingly.

“ _Shhh shhh shhh_ no, _no. No screaming._ ”

He said, hands coming out to grab me, but I back stepped away from him and the pool of blood that was beginning to seep out of Strange. I realized now he had the gun pointed at _me_ . _Was he going to kill me next?_ I thought, horrified. 

“You..you _killed_ him!”

I sputtered, panic and fear making me feel nauseous. 

“Well, _act-u-ally_ I used _your_ pen. So, technically, _we_ killed him.”

We stared at each other, eye to eye, for a long moment. _Would he shoot me if I ran? Should I stay and fight him off?_ I wondered. I realized I didn’t have much of a choice.

Then, I swallowed the bile that was threatening to spill from my mouth, turned on my heels, and burst out of the door into a full run.

  
**Arkham Asylum**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I ran into the hallway and right into complete chaos. Apparently, J hadn’t only freed himself, but _every single patient on this level_ . I slipped a little and looked down to see that it was _blood_ . I guessed some of our more _violent_ patients had already started their impromptu murder party. I tried not to look at the bodies on the ground, dressed in similar coats to mine. I steadied myself, without looking back, and kept running blindly. 

  
_Heels were probably a bad choice_ , I remembered thinking to myself, as every step on the now slick with blood floor made my feet less and less sure. _I should’ve worn something sensible, something at least functional_ , I thought, as I tumbled down hard, landing on my elbows and knees directly into it. Everything stung as I lifted my head, attempting to see how far away I was from danger, only to meet the gaze of a barrel pointed directly between my eyes. 

My stomach lurched as panic and doom swelled within my chest. I’d read the stories about him, of course. Who hadn’t? The clown who started the riots, who had nearly succeeded in taking Gotham hostage. I saw the photos of his dingy, haphazardly dyed green hair, his moth-eaten pinstripe purple suit, the god awful scars. He’d been plenty frightening behind a camera lens. 

He’d been even more frightening as a patient. I had at least been comforted by the fact I knew then he was safely tucked away behind the glass (Read: Had been ), but he’d still managed to make me shiver. Nothing, however, could prepare me for the real thing. The real flesh and blood thing , a _mere foot_ away from me. And he was staring down at me, an unreadable expression across his painted features, as I heard the gun click.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the bullet to make contact, but it didn’t. I heard J growl deep in his throat, clearly annoyed. Then, I heard the gun go off, a loud thud, then only the blaring of the alarm and my own panting. He gripped me again, grabbing me by the wrist. 

“...15…”

I heard him say under his breath. Then, without explanation to his actions, he began to bark orders at me.

“Take your heels off. _Now_.”

I did as he said, discarding them, my feet sinking into the now warm blood spreading across the floor.

“Now, _try to keep up_.”

He spared me no moment to collect myself, and took off at a run, holding me tightly by the wrist. As we passed, I looked at the dead body we left behind of a patient, by his hand, a bloody screwdriver. _He’d...saved me...again?_ I realized, letting that revelation hit me, as I attempted to keep up with him.

He ran at a neckbreak pace, but it wasn’t frenzied. It was methodical. _Fast_ , but methodical. It seemed that J knew exactly where he was going and how to get there. I was struck momentarily by the precision of his movements when, finally, we encountered a roadblock. 

A patient came in our path, a few of them, threatening and armed with various medical instruments they’d undoubtedly looted off the dead bodies of my coworkers. They looked at me, their beady unfocused eyes locking on.

“There’s another one...kill her.”

One of them said, advancing. For a horrible moment, as we stood motionless, I thought he’d just hand me over. It would’ve been the easiest thing to do. Leave me to die so he could make an easier, faster escape. However, he simply, _expertly_ , shot him directly in the forehead. 

“..14..”

He muttered, as the rest of the posse looked at the dead man in horror, and took off. I guessed that they probably realized they’d literally brought knives to a gunfight. Then, he pulled my wrist again, as we took off.

I tried my best to keep up, but I must’ve twisted my ankle when I fell, because I began to slow down, wincing in pain. The adrenaline had apparently worn off now, leaving me to feel all of my injuries, acutely. J stopped, looking at me with an unreadable expression, his eyes flicking from my face to my leg.

Then, the door to our left opened.

“There he is!”

They said, revealing two GCPD officers, armed with guns and police batons. We were completely outnumbered. They began to shoot us, apparently not much caring who I was or if I lived or died.

I screamed and J growled, shoving us both into the stairwell directly to our left with his shoulder, side stepping us haphazardly into cover, shooting back at them. I fell and flew on the ground, skidding across the cement, definitely scraping my legs and arms.

“...13...12…11...10.”

I could hear them approach the door, quick on our trail, shouting.

 _“_ Well _, fuck_.”

He slammed his shoulder into the door as they attempted to open it, holding it closed with his body weight, but I could tell he was struggling. The door was shaking with the effort of the officers, and J simply gritted his teeth, holding it closed with all of his might.

I got up on my hands and knees, my eyes darting around to find anything to assist him. I took my lab coat off, now dripping with blood in places, and began to wrap it tightly around the door, holding it closed, before knotting it several times. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would hold long enough.

J looked stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across his face, impossibly wide.

“Aren’t you just _full_ of surprises.”

I rolled my eyes.

“We can _marvel_ over my _genius_ when we’re not being chased and shot at.”

He grabbed me again, taking off up the stairs. I tried to follow after him, but I missed a step, and rolled my ankle again. I cried out, falling down two steps, his grip on my wrist broken by my fall. It was then that I heard the GCPD below us begin to break through the door. 

J’s jaw twitched as his eyes darted from above us to where I laid prone on the stairs. After a few more seconds, he gave a loud growl of irritation, stepped down, and unceremoniously thrusted me over his shoulder, like a _literal_ sack of potatoes. 

“ _What’re you_ -!”

I yelped in surprise, but he didn’t seem to care. He just began running again, as fast as humanly possible. Faster than I thought he could, especially while holding _another person_. I was jostled about, my face staring at his feet and the steps quickly disappearing behind us, unable to keep a good eye on where we were going. 

However, I had a _great view_ of the GCPD, only slightly below us, coming up on us - _quickly_. 

“J- _they’re gaining on us_!”

I yelled at him, horrified they’d begin shooting again, and he gave a huff.

“Yeah, I _noticed_ . Give me a break, you’re not exactly _light. Now keep quiet and hold on._ ”

I gripped his shirt underneath my hands on his shoulders, squealing as we reached the very top of the stairs, and he thrust us through a door. It hit his arms and my legs under his hands, hard, causing me to wince in pain. He unloaded me then, directly onto the ground, right on my ass. I huffed, feeling the pain from hitting the cement echoing through my body. 

He pulled the gun he’d stuck in his pants waistband out. The GCPD officers burst through the door, looking around, momentarily caught off guard. J took this opportunity to shoot at both of them, nearly emptying out the gun. I watched as they fell to the ground, gurgling, blood pooling around them.

“-4….3….2…1... _0._ ”

He muttered, a frown on his face, as we both realized he was out of bullets. In my panic, I failed to hear the noise of something flapping in the wind. It was then I saw J's whole body stiffen, a smirk coming up on his lips, as he turned slightly to look at something behind me.

“ _Joker!_ ”

I turned to see Batman flying towards us, landing briskly in the opposite end of us on the rooftop. J smirked, surprisingly, looking quite pleased to see him.

“Ya know, you’ve got a _real knack_ for showing up at the most _inopportune_ times. Anyone ever uh _tell you that?_ ”

“You’re going back to Arkham now, Joker. _Permanently_.” 

Batman replied, evenly, in that gruff voice of his. His eyes darted to me then J, who mirrored him. And, at the same time, he and J lunged for me. However, unfortunately for Batman, I was closer to J. He grabbed me by the arm, flinging me up, and then pressed me to the front of his body with a strong arm around my middle. I could only see Batman now, who had frozen to the spot. 

I felt J's voice in my ear.

“Uh, _listen_ \- _No hard feelings_ , but I’m gunna need to ask for your help - _again_. It is kinda your fault we’re running behind.”

I then felt the gun pressed to my cheek and I felt my brain short circuit. _Was he really going to kill me now?_ _No_ - _Wait_ , I thought, remembering. _He's out of bullets. He's_ bluffing. I realized with shock. He wanted me to _play along_.

“ _Let her go_. This is between me and you.”

Batman implored sternly, stopped dead in his tracks still, but J simply sniggered from behind me. He smelled like gunsmoke, cigarettes, and metal. Strangely, I felt myself relax in his grip, lulled by it. Whatever happened now, I’d officially lost control over it. There was no sense in fighting it anymore. _I'd put myself here anyway, hadn't I?_

“Usually, I’d agree with ya Bats, but not tonight. We can have our playdate a little later. As you can see, I’m uh, _a little occupied._ ”

He shook me around in his arms for effect and I saw Batman grit his teeth. J began to move me backward with him, and I took a moment to look over my shoulder, _horrified_. All I could see below us was water, extremely far below us. I wasn't sure we'd survive a fall from _that_ height. I voiced this, panic lacing my insides.

“ _No_ ...no _J_ , _don’t_ . _Don’t, please,_ we won’t-”

I began to plead, but he silenced me, using the gun by my cheek to gently pet me. I blinked in surprise.

_“Shh, shhh_ . Just _let it happen_ . _Trust me_.”

He said, his lips moving beside my ear, grazing it ever so slightly. I shivered in response. 

I must’ve been completely out of my mind because, at that moment, I realized _I did_ trust him. We’d backed up considerably, I could see from the corner of my eye J’s bare feet on the pavement, half on the roof, half off.

“Joker, _don’t_. She doesn’t need to die.”

J gripped me tighter, hands gripped around my middle. He whispered in my ear again.

“ _Straighten your back, point your toes, and uh don't bend your legs, mmkay?_ ”

That was apparently all the warning he was going to give me.

“ _Toodles_ , Bats. See ya later.”

And with that, he turned us both, stepping us over the edge, the only sound Batman’s growl of anguish and my own screams of terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who still continues to read this fic! We return back to school tomorrow, but I'm hoping to have more time to update this in the future! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen takes a deep dive. The Skyline Club gets a private event. Harleen has to make a choice.
> 
> \--
> 
> Fundraiser is next chapter, I swear!

**In mid** **_fucking_ ** **air**

 **⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

It didn’t take nearly as long as I thought to fall. 

It almost felt instantaneous. 

One second I was on the roof, and the next, I was crashing into coldness. 

I had immediately complied with what J had told me to do before we hit the water. I’d straightened my back, pointed my toes, and held my legs straight. He was lucky I had been a gymnast in a past life, or else I probably couldn’t have managed it in such a rush.

Miraculously, my legs weren’t broken, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting. 

The resistance from the water was no joke, but not quite enough to cause much bodily harm, aside from bruising. The water was terribly cold, and as soon as I hit it, I felt it shock my system, leaving me numb and disoriented.

I thrashed around under the water, unsure of what was up or down for a moment, before I felt hands grip me and pull me up to the surface. I gasped and opened my eyes, only to be greeted with near darkness, light bouncing just barely atop the gentle waves.

“What the _fuck_ was that?!”

My voice was scratchy and near hysterical, coming out in huffs. I couldn’t really see J in the pitch black of the night, but the reflection of the moon gave me enough to see he was smiling. I snapped, grabbing him by the front of his Arkham issued patient uniform, shaking him as much as I could in the water. 

His head rocked back and forth with the motion, giving me no resistance, so I felt like I was shaking a ragdoll. It _irritated_ me. I wanted to elicit _some_ sort of emotion.

“You could’ve _killed_ us!”

I yelled, teeth bared. He grabbed my hands with one hand, using the other to keep afloat, removing it from his person. 

I let him, only because I noticed a rippling in the water that didn’t match the previous level of disruption, wakes hitting me in the nose and mouth. I turned to see Frankie pulling up in a nice looking speeder. Shocked, I watched as J swam up to it, Frankie meeting him, pulling him out of the water and onto the boat ladder.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing me to see the paint dripping from his face, smeared over his neck, his green hair dye dripping all over his once white uniform shirt. He looked like he was melting, but for some reason, I felt myself struck by the image. 

In that moment, there was something _unbearably attractive_ to his chaos and dishevelment, the moon shining down on him like a beacon.

I shook myself, beginning to swim over, when J pulled the ladder up from the boat. I stopped dead in my tracks, a few feet from the boat, fixing him with a perplexed and slightly hurt look. _He’s really going to just leave me in the freezing cold water...after everything we’ve been through?!_ I thought, shaking with rage.

“Sorry, Harls. This boat’s at capacity.You're gonna uh _have to find your own ride_.”

He leaned over the railing, slumping over it, his face half pressed against it. I felt my heart drop to my ass, momentarily stunned by the pain that accompanied it. J had a smile plastered on his melting face, like leaving me there in the cold was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

“ _You_ -you _bastard!_ ”

I snarled, slamming my hands violently in the water, causing it to splash around me, feeling like a small child throwing a fit. I must’ve looked that way because his smile only grew. 

“Mmm, yeah, _duh_ . For a smart girl, you’re uh _kinda slow on the uptake_ …”

I felt myself staring at him in horror, rendered speechless.

“-I’m _The Joker_.”

He looked past me, his smile vanishing, before he spoke again.

“Looks like he’ll give you a lift.”

He motioned behind me with his chin, and I turned slightly to see Batman, jumping into the water, only a few hundred feet behind me. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t _want_ Batman to save me.

“Been _real,_ doc.”

J leveled me with a look I once again couldn’t read, eyes smouldering with something. I opened my mouth to speak, but he turned his back to me, barking orders. 

_Dismissing me_. 

I swallowed hard as I watched him.

“ _Frankie_ , let’s get the _fuck_ outta here. I’ve got warehouses to _burn_ , people to _kill._ ”

Frankie shot me a sympathetic look before he nodded and the boat took off at a neckbreak speed, away from Batman–

—and away from _me_. 

Even though I was now shaking and chattering from the cold, I was happy I was soaking wet. 

That way, when Batman had grabbed me and grappled us to safety, he couldn’t tell that I’d been crying.

**GCPD Headquarters**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

“I hope that you’re feeling warmer now, Miss Quinzel.”

I nodded numbly, wrapped up in a GCPD issued trauma blanket, my wet work clothes replaced with sweats of the same nature. My hair was still wet though, causing the sweats to be stained with water. I looked at the ends of it, realizing they were tinged a slight green, and felt my heart constrict again, making me feel sick. 

“We just need to ask a few questions. I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, I apologize. I’ll get you home as soon as this is over.”

By “we” he apparently meant himself and _Batman_ , who stood motionless out of range of the interrogation room lights. He was leaning against the wall beside me, arms crossed over his chest, darkness obstructing his face, undoubtedly assessing me. 

“It’s alright. I understand.”

I managed, picking up the warm cup of coffee sitting on the stainless steel table between me and Commissioner Gordon. 

Batman’s voice cut through the silence.

“Were you there when Dr. Strange was killed?”

I turned slightly to level him with a look.

“Yes, I said that already. I’m sorry, is _he_ part of the GCPD? I was under the impression I was being interrogated by _actual_ police.”

Gordon frowned, looking towards Batman, before looking back at me. They exchanged weary glances, but I didn’t care much.

“Do you know how _he_ escaped?”

Batman asked, unphased by my words. I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee, feeling the warmth of it fall down my stomach. However, I still somehow felt _cold_.

“Yes, I have a general idea. He _violently_ attacked me a few days prior and used it as an excuse to steal a pen from my patient folder and a bobby pin from my hair. I’m assuming he used the bobby pin to pick the cuffs around his hands and feet and the pen as a weapon. He all but told me that much before he killed Strange _in front of me_ with it.”

Gordon nodded, grimacing slightly at my words. I watched his eyes travel from my face to my neck, then back up again, a look of pity lacing his features.

_Great_ . Even _he_ felt sorry for me.

“He lured some of the orderlies into his cell, it seems, after he’d broke himself free. He used the pen as a weapon to kill them, then he stole their ID cards, allowing him to escape the bottom floor. He must’ve had help though, because they didn’t have enough clearance to make it all the way to the top.”

I nodded back, gripping the paper coffee cup so tightly, it nearly crumpled in my hands.

“ _Frankie._ He was an orderly with extra clearance, been working at Arkham for a few years now, and _was_ very reliable. He’s uh, got a scar on his face, a big, burly sort of man. Dark hair, tanned skin. He’s probably about six foot three, at least.”

I licked my chapped lips, feeling my bruised neck acutely, as it contorted from the action. 

“Sorry I can’t offer you more information. I can’t really think that well right now.”

I added afterwards, avoiding their eyes. 

They probably thought the dead bodies, shoot out, and impromptu deep dive into the watery depths around Arkham had done a number on me. But, surprisingly, that wasn’t _quite_ true. That wasn’t what was bothering me, though, it _should_ have been.

Gordon gave me another sympathetic look.

“I understand. I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll arrange for you to be driven home by one of our officers. Do you live nearby?”

Batman pushed off from against the wall, standing next to Gordon now, in between me and the only means to exit.

“She’ll be a target now, Gordon. I saw his face when he-”

He stopped speaking abruptly, looking at me as if I was a kicked puppy, then continued. I wondered _what_ it was he had seen. 

“She’ll _need_ extra protection. You should schedule a few officers outside her place for awhile.”

I raised an eyebrow at his insinuation. I felt vaguely insulted that he thought I was so weak as to be afraid of _him_ . That I couldn't _handle_ myself. I gritted my teeth in anger as I thought about his smug face, slumped over the boat.

_“I beg your pardon_ , I’m _right_ here. I don’t _need_ any extra protection, I can handle myself. I just want to go _home_.”

They turned to look at me, barely registering what I was saying, before continuing their conversation.

“I can spare a few men. I’ll have them stay there once they drop her off.”

Batman frowned.

“Send them after.”

I watched as Gordon suddenly looked equal parts amused and flabbergasted.

“What, are we not good enough for you? Are you _seriously_ going to drive her home in the _Batmobile?_ ”

Gordon said, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Batman simply fixed him with a blank stare. 

Gordon sighed.

“Fine. By all means, take her home yourself.”

I felt indignation floor me before I was ushered by them both out of the door, bracing myself to take a ride in the Batmobile. 

**The Narrows**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

The ride was mostly quiet, _thank god_ . I was in desperate need of some quiet to process all of my thoughts, all these new, _foreign_ feelings. 

I wasn’t used to...well, _this_ . I had identified “this” as betrayal. It had been a _long_ time since I’d let someone make me feel this particular feeling. I could vaguely remember experiencing it, when my dad didn’t show up to my sixth Gymnastic meet in a row. 

Knowing deep in my bones he’d never go to any of them ever again, but not wanting to accept it. 

I worked extra hard to isolate and separate myself from my feelings. I preferred when things were calculated, clinical, _sterile_ , even. No feelings attached. Just cold, hard, _logic_. It was an imperative for someone in my field of work, anyways. 

But it was also imperative for _me_ specifically. 

I had always been what people would call a “loose canon.” Always one step _too close_ to the edge. I’d never let myself fall, though. Always _perfectly_ restrained over the side, by sheer will power. Everything had to be just right, everything had to be _controlled_. But now, I felt like I was out of control. I couldn’t stop the feelings radiating inside. 

And worse yet, they were _painful_.

I told myself I deserved it. 

_What did you expect, Harleen? He’s a psychopathic clown. Of course he’d leave you. Better he left you. You’re lucky he didn’t just kill you. Should be glad that he’d needed a hostage. That’s all you were, a hostage, after all. And that’s fine. You don’t want anything to do with him._

However, it wasn’t really sticking.

“We’re here.”

Batman’s voice grounded out, and I realized we’d stopped. 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

I muttered, not knowing how to get out, desperate to leave this all behind me. _Did the Batmobile even have door handles?_ Seemingly reading my mind _,_ he pressed a button amongst many, and the entire top lifted enough for me to get out.

“Gordon will have some men stationed around your apartment, around the clock. Call him if you have any trouble.”

I bit my lip, seriously doubting I’d have any “trouble.” J wasn’t coming back. 

My use had _expired_.

I didn’t answer him, turning on my heels, fighting back the tears I’d been holding in the entire time.

“It’s not your fault, Miss Quinzel. Anyone would’ve done what you did in your situation. You had no way of knowing he’d use you to escape.”

I heard him say from behind me. 

I snorted, letting a tear fall, my back still turned to him. He had no idea how _wrong_ he was. I continued walking, pushing the glass revolving doors to my apartment, not gracing him with an answer.

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I ran my hand down my face, closing my door, nearly leaping onto my couch. I let myself have a small pity party, until my phone began to buzz in my pocket. 

It was Dr. Arkham.

“Quinzel. I’m sorry to call you so late. Are you alright?”

I sighed, laying back on my couch, hand over my eyes.

“As fine as I can be, given the circumstances. I’ve just left the GCPD.”

There was silence for a few moments on the phone, before he answered me, sounding very uncomfortable. 

“Listen, _Quinzel_. I understand this is a hard time for you, for all of us. Strange was a great employee and friend-”

He began. I gritted my teeth at his words. Strange certainly wasn’t what I would have called a _friend_.

“-He’ll be sorely missed. Its….it’s a goddamn tragedy, but-”

He finished, and I attempted to not roll my eyes. I knew it wasn’t Strange’s death that was affecting him so much. The real “tragedy” was the bad press he was about to receive. A breakout like this wasn’t going to be hushed. 

And, speak of the devil...

“- _Well_ , I’m sure you’ve seen the news, right?”

I heard Arkham sigh on the other end, which never meant anything good. I shot up on the couch, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, wondering what else he could possibly have to say to me.

“ _Listen_ , I’m going to have to put you on leave. I would’ve done it anyways, with all you’ve _experienced_ the past few weeks. But, well, with what they’re _saying_. You’ve got to understand. I just can’t risk you coming back right now.”

Numbly, I reached for the TV remote, turning it on to the news. Vicki Vale was speaking, but I barely processed her words. I responded to Arkham, not really listening to what he was saying anymore, my stomach filled with dread.

“I understand.”

Vicki began to speak now, and I drank it in, like a trainwreck. I couldn’t look away.

“...Joker has escaped Arkham Asylum. It appears among his newest slew of victims was Dr. Hugo Strange, the head psychiatrist. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a former intern of Dr. Jonathan Crane, known more widely as Scarecrow, was used as a hostage.”

I swallowed hard, barely listening to Arkham prattle on about how _sorry_ he was and how _sorely_ he’ll miss Strange.

“GCPD is reportedly investigating her involvement. Right now, it is unclear if she aided his escape, or was a victim herself. ”

I merely stared blankly, listening, as Arkham sighed again, deeply. _So..I was a_ _suspect now?!_

“I’ll let you know when you can come back to work. Goodnight, Quinzel.”

“Sure. Goodnight, Dr. Arkham.”

I responded distractedly, heard the click, but didn’t move the phone from my ear. I felt an eerie calm come over me. My mind worked in overtime, processing and dissecting all of the events of the night. I sat and turned them over in my mind, until I had —

…. _a great_ idea. 

**Gotham City**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

I’d done a handful of very stupid things in my life. And among them, I’d definitely mark my decision to even meet with J at Arkham among the top.

_This_ , however, was _definitely_ the most _ballsy_.

I was almost surprised by how easy it was, to be honest. Which didn't really bode well for the competency of the Gotham police force. (Alternatively, it _did_ explain why Batman had gotten so popular.) I’d decided almost immediately that I needed to express to _him_ how _angry_ I was. He couldn’t get away with leaving me _alone_ with _his_ mess. 

And that's when I decided.

I’d take matters into my _own_ hands. 

So, I snuck out of my own apartment like a teenager, and made my way towards Gotham City. 

I exited the taxi and clutched the sequined purse at my side, something I’d had sitting in the back of my closet for a while, unused. I’d always been too busy with work or college to be able to give it the use I’d so badly wanted to give it. It looked like it was finally time for it to shine. 

It was no secret that the Skyline Club in Gotham City was owned and operated by Carmine Falcone. If what J had said to Frankie was anything to consider, it sounded like he’d been extremely eager to begin the job I’d _unwillingly_ helped him negotiate. Therefore, the smartest place to start, was the Skyline Club. 

Skyline was a normal, functioning, if not a bit seedy club. However, it was no secret it was exclusive. That was because it was also no secret that the upper floors were used for _business_ . To get inside, I needed to prove that I was part of the crowd they allowed there. Hence, — how did J put it? Right. I’d worn something _tight and cheap looking_. 

I walked up to the front where the bouncers stood, guarding the entrance. I did my best to appear nonchalant, like I went here all of the time. However, they stopped me almost immediately.

“Club’s closed tonight. Exclusive event.”

I frowned at them, acting annoyed.

“How do you know I wasn’t _invited_? You haven’t even asked my name.”

The man, a bouncer who was about twice my height and width, lowered his shades a little to take me in. He huffed in amusement.

“I don’t need to know your name. I know who's on this list. And _you_ \- _you ain’t on the list._ ”

He said, sizing me up. I put a hand on my hip, tossing my hair over my shoulder, opening my purse. The bouncer eyed me as I spoke, beginning to pull my phone out.

“I’m assuming the “exclusive event” has to do with The Joker, huh? I should just call Vinnie and let him know how his boys didn’t let J’s _associate_ in and hassled her at the door.”

I knew I was going out on a limb here. I had no real way of knowing if it really was for him, but I’d already committed to the act. I pretended to begin to call a number when I saw them visibly stiffen. Another one of the bouncers leaned over, speaking gently to the other one. I could barely hear them.

“...saw her at the warehouse...made the deal..on the news...broke him out.. _his shrink_.”

I swallowed hard, holding the phone to my ear as I tapped my foot, attempting to look convincing. 

“Phone.”

One of them held out their hand for my phone. I didn’t want to give it to them, but it seemed if I wanted to get inside, it was a strict no electronics policy. I handed it over. The bouncers nodded at each other before moving aside, opening the door for me and I flashed them a smile.

“Thanks, _boys_.”

And then disappeared inside of the club.

**Skyline Club**

**⧫** **⧫** **⧫**

The club was definitely as sleezy as I’d heard. It was loud with an obscene amount of gold on nearly every surface. It looked expensive, but somehow also exceedingly cheap. There weren’t a ton of people inside, to my dismay, but thankfully enough that nobody noticed me entering. I made a beeline for the bar, leaning against it, surveying my surroundings.

What struck me first was the fact that everyone in here was definitely mob. They all had that look to them. Expensive, flashy suits, nice watches, but still all looked a little gaudy. And if the bouncers' reactions to me name dropping J and Vinnie had anything to do with it, this was likely a face-to-face meeting between Falcone’s people and The Joker. 

I stood, clutching my purse close to my body, eyes scanning when I felt a hand touch my shoulder.

“Well, if it isn’t the _she-clown_ herself.”

I turned around to see Vinnie, smiling from ear to ear. His eyes wandered from my feet all the way up to my face.

“ _Damn_ , you sure clean up nice.”

“So I’ve heard.”

I said, forcing myself to smile and not outwardly panic. Vinnie had no idea that J and I weren’t really partners, it seemed. And I could use that to my advantage, if I played my cards right.

“What’re you doin’ by the bar by yourself? I’ve got a VIP section up to the right. Let me buy you a bottle”

He offered, his hand touching my lower back, guiding me towards the aforementioned section. As we moved past I documented every single face I saw, searching for the one I was looking for, but was sorely disappointed when it came up missing. 

Vinnie had sat me down, regrettably, to where I couldn’t see the doors, and snapped his fingers. A man ran up from the bar, some sort of club butler.

“Get us a round of shots, top shelf, and a bottle of champagne.”

He barked, using his freehand to slick back a stray hair that had dipped into his eyes. He turned his focus back to me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“I gotta say, I’m surprised you’re not up there right now.”

He pointed at the ceiling, presumably to the upper floors.

“J and I had a disagreement. I wasn’t invited to the meeting.”

I explained, not lying, not exactly telling the truth. Vinnie sucked his teeth in response as the champagne bucket arrived, our shots put in front of us.

“Salute!”

“Salute.”

I echoed, tapping the shot to the table and then throwing it back. It burned pleasantly as it went down, instantly making me feel a bit woozy. 

“Well, I don’t know what you disagreed on, but he should count himself lucky to have you.”

For some reason, I felt appeased by his assessment. Even if J didn’t “have me” in any sense of the word. He continued.

“I saw the news. You helped break him out, right?”

I grimaced a bit, wanting to strongly disagree, but I simply gave him an evasive answer.

“Yeah, more or less.”

Vinnie got to work on the champagne, popping the bottle, and filling our glasses. 

“I don’t envy you. I seen the way The Joker acts. Must be hard to work for him.”

I shrugged, noncommittal. I didn’t really think it was good conduct to shit talk your “boss”, and I didn’t want to fall into any traps.

“You know how it is. He’s no worse than anyone else.”

Vinnie laughed, smiling large, his teeth nearly perfectly white.

“I sure as fuck do, _still_ though.”

He leaned closer to me, his eyes becoming serious.

“ _Shit_ , if you ever find you’re tired of the clown, you could always come work for me instead. A girl like you could do a lot for us.”

“A girl like me, huh?”

I said, raising my eyebrow at him. Vinnie got even closer, leaning over the table towards me, as much as possible. He reached over, taking a piece of my hair that was resting against my chest, and bringing it to his lips. I was momentarily caught off guard.

“Yeah. A smart, _hot_ , tough as nails girl like you.”

I felt myself blush, our eyes meeting heatedly, when Vinnie abruptly moved backwards, letting me go. His eyes were blown wide, face a bit pale, looking behind me. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, when I was roughly shoved over to the side by another body. Forcibly making room for them on my booth seat.

“Am I... _interrupting?_ ” 

I turned to see J and felt myself go stiff. 

J spread out, putting a hand behind my neck, his fingers touching the ends of my hair, still tinged a slight green. His rough fingertips caught on it every so often and I winced at his attention. Vinnie looked like he’d been caught stealing, swallowing hard, pushing that strand of hair back again that kept falling in his face. 

His eyes traced J’s movements and then smiled. 

“Nah, course’ not. _Ay!_ ”

Vinnie turned and snapped his fingers, producing the man from before.

“Get us another round, on me.”

Vinnie turned back, trying to come off as jovial. I could only see J out of peripheral vision, not daring to make direct eye contact. I shifted as J’s grip on my hair tightened, ever so slightly, when Vinnie spoke again.

“We’ve just been talkin’ business. She’s a sharp lady.”

Vinnie added. I felt J begin to tap his foot against the floor and I dared to glance at him. He was staring at Vinnie. _Intently_.

“Mmm, that so? What kind of _business_?”

The tension was so palpable, you could’ve cut it with a knife. I sat, rooted to the spot, as his hand found my shoulder, holding it stiffly. 

“Uhhh, _ya know_ , just this and that. Listen man, if she’s your girl, I didn’t mean no har-”

J cut him off and gave a short, clipped laugh. Though, it still managed to make me shiver.

“My girl? My…. _girl?_ She works for me so that makes her _mine,_ girl or not. Now beat it before I decide to gut you like a fish. Her and I have some _unfinished business_.” 

Vinnie looked like he’d been slapped, scrambling up as fast as he could, hand shaking around his glass as he left. J turned to me finally and I got to take him in. He looked.. _.different._ He had a new, purple suit on, his hair a freshly dyed green. On his face, the war paint was pristine. He was definitely a far cry from the dingy, confined man I’d seen in Arkham. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, _Har-leen_?”

He asked, licking his lips once. A habit I knew meant irritation, much like the flicking of a cat's tail. I frowned, crossing my arms and legs, turning my nose away from him. I didn’t look at him as I reached forward to grab the shot, slamming it back, feeling my face heat up even more, angered and slightly intoxicated now.

“I came here to have a little fun and ran into Vinnie. Gotta tell you, J. You’re _killing_ the vibe.”

I prodded him, daring him to challenge me. He merely relaxed again, never removing his hands from me. For some reason, I let him. He leaned in close, making me look him in the eyes, holding my head in place with his hand. We were so close, our noses were almost touching. I swallowed hard, my eyes darting around his face. W _as he mad? Was he irritated? Was he pleased?_ I couldn’t tell.

“Listen up, _Harls_ . Wayne’s fundraiser is tomorrow. I’m gunna uh _need you to go_. Play the part of Bruce-y’s little date.”

I frowned, trying to struggle in his grasp. He hooted half-heartedly and released me, but kept us close together. I felt a blush, one I’d tried very hard to suppress, spread across my face.

“And why would I do that?”

I countered. J’s body crowded me into the wall, his arms on either side of my head, cradling us in an intimate, _private_ conversation. 

“Because you’re going to let us in. Ya see, like I said, we've got _unfinished business_.”

He quickly added the next part, saying it in a rush.

“Also I’m going to need to _kidnap you_.”

I felt myself blink a few times before responding, feeling the anger return, my voice picking up volume. 

“What?! Why on earth would you-”

J grinded his teeth, slamming a hand beside my head, quieting me instantly. 

“Because - _shh, shh_ \- _because_ Gotham needs to know that The Joker is _back in business_. And because, judging by the Bats reaction last time, you’ll make the _perfect_ bait.”

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest again, chin turning away from him, in a pout.

“Bait for what?”

J smirked from ear to ear.

“We’re gunna throw ourselves a little tea party at The Royal Hotel. And what's a party without some _batty_ guests?”

I hummed, feeling him let off me, backing away enough to give me some air.

“Alright, let’s pretend for _shits and giggle_ s I’m considering it. You still haven’t answered my first question. Why would I help you?”

His smile faded, a serious look on his face. 

“ _Shits and giggle_ s huh? You uh, want me to beg?”

He reached forward again, taking the stained green tips of my hair in his hands again, staring at them intently.

“Or to ask for forgiveness?”

I was momentarily shocked, but recovered.

“I think...an apology for nearly giving me hypothermia would be sufficient.” 

He leaned forward suddenly, holding my head with his free hand, his lips nearly against my ear.

“That’s the thing, _Harls_ . If you’re gunna hang around me there are _no apologies_ , there is no _forgiveness_ . I _forgive_ people by _forgetting_ them.”

His breath smelled of stale cigarettes, wisping against my ear, causing me to shiver.

“You can _keep up_ , or you can get _left behind_ . What I _am_ giving you is an opportunity. You can take it…”

He released me, moving away to his side of the booth now, still facing me, his legs between us atop the seat. He almost looked child-like, using his free hand to smooth back the hair that had fallen into his face, greasy and piecey, like he hadn’t had a shower in a few days.

“...Or you can _leave it_ . The _choice_ is yours.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but then I saw Frankie appear, a machine gun slung over his shoulder.

“Boss, everything's ready.” 

J nodded at him once curtly, before standing up haphazardly, sticking his hands in his pockets, back to me.

“Sorry to cut our date short, but uh _duty calls_.”

He snapped his fingers at Frankie and pointed in my direction over his shoulder, like I was a _pest_. I scrambled to get away, but Frankie grabbed me under the armpits, dragging me out of the booth, legs nearly dangling as he lifted.

“Make sure she gets home safe for me, huh? She’s got a _big day_ tomorrow.”

Frankie gripped me and began to move me with him, but I threw my elbow back, hitting him right in the ribs. His grip didn’t falter enough to let me free, but it gave me a bit more room, frantically I screamed at him, thrashing against him. I felt all the rage and the frustration and the _hurt_ fumble itself out. I felt tears prick my eyes.

“ _You don’t know what I’ll do!_ You don’t know if I’ll even _show up_ . You can’t order me around. _No one can._ ”

J stopped in his tracks, turning a little, flashing me that crooked, too-big-for-his-face smile. 

“ _Ooooo_ , I’m _countin_ ’ on that.”

And then I felt something hit the back of my neck, hard. My vision went hazy as I felt my body go limp, my vision beginning to close, narrowing my view. The last thing I could see was J walking away from me, and Frankie’s scarred face as I was hefted into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos, commented, or just simply read this. It means a lot to me! I'll try to continue to update once a week, if possible! :)


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